Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby
by Aishuu
Summary: How the series might have gone if Kurt was Quinn's baby daddy. Some romances don't fit into any box.
1. Chapter 1

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

* * *

Warnings: Topics covered include teen pregnancy, sexuality/gender identity, abortion, discussion of the rape... nothing graphic, though.

Notes: I was going to do "Five Guys Who Weren't Quinn's Baby Daddy," but somehow it became a Kurt/Quinn fic (Qurt?). Color me shocked. Posting this now because of the inevitable Jossing Season 2 will bring.  
Spoilers: Starts right after the Pilot, but this is a divergent story that takes some parallel lines before going completely away from the series canon. Still, anything through "Journey" is fair game.

* * *

Quinn never resents waking up, except for this time. She's not a huge fan of pain, but life as a Cheerio for the past two years has given her a higher pain threshold than most. So when she wakes up feeling like there's a steel drum band performing inside her skull, she rolls over and buries her face in the pillow.

Or she would have, if her body hadn't come into the contact with someone else's warm, and very bare, skin. She tells herself to take a couple deep breaths, because Quinn Fabray does not panic. Her head is killing her, but she forces herself to puzzle out what's happening, making her sluggish brain recognize the facts so she can come up with a plan.

The sheets are warm against her skin, and she blushes as she realizes she isn't wearing anything, either.

She's naked.

In a bed.

Reaching out a tentative hand, she brushes her hand against her bed partner's arm to confirm what she fears.

With a guy.

She's hyperventilating just a bit, because this isn't supposed to happen to her. She's the president of the Celibacy Club, the poster child for abstinence. She's not suppose to wake up "the morning after" because she is waiting for marriage!

The most obvious answer to what happened the night before is that she got drunk and someone took advantage of her. She's been feeling insecure lately, due to the pressure of being Captain and Finn's sudden fascination with Glee, and if someone had said the right things...

Her fear starts to mingle with growing anger, and she wants to hurt someone. Whoever is sleeping next to her is the obvious target. Her stomach clenches with the one surety that it isn't Finn.

Turning her head, Quinn stares at the sleeping boy next to her, and has to struggle to remember his name. He'd been at the party as a guest of Finn's, one of the Glee club members.

_Oh my God,_ she thinks. _I'm in bed with someone I don't know._

Then a second later, she remembers his name and realizes the situation is more FUBAR than she'd thought. She had fucked Kurt Hummel, the gayest boy in school, and possibly in the state of Ohio.

She wants to wake him up and start screaming at him, but her patchy memory is starting to come back. They'd both been very drunk, and neither had been happy about how Finn had been hanging on Rachel Berry's every word. Somehow or other, they'd ended up talking, then bitching, and suddenly he was her new BFF.

Somehow it'd ended up with her following him home. His parents hadn't been visible as they'd stumbled downstairs, but Kurt had liberated several beers from the fridge so they could keep drinking. They'd talked about fashion and how stupid Finn was not to see through Rachel's special brand of crazy, and about how slutty the rest of the Cheerios were.

Kurt had teased her about not fitting the stereotype correctly, and she'd decided to fight back by climbing into his lap and straddling him. She'd felt powerful as he started to freak out, insisting he wasn't interested in girls, but she'd shut him up with a hand job. A hand was a hand, no matter what some people claimed, and it didn't take long for his body to respond.

And that had been just the beginning.

If anyone had been taken advantage of, it'd been Kurt.

Her eyes burn, and she wants to cry. She's supposed to be queen of the Celibacy Ball, and she just lost her virginity to a boy who didn't even want her.

Quinn is confused, but the one thing she does know is she doesn't want to stay. Kurt is very likely to freak out upon waking, and she doesn't want to be around when that happens. Maybe if she leaves, Kurt will think he had some kind of alcohol induced dream.

But as she lifts the covers, she can tell that's a stupid hope. Her blood is all over the sheets, the bright red spot standing out like an accusation. She winces as she slowly puts her clothes back on, the pain from between her legs reminding her that she had been a virgin the night before.

Quinn looks over her shoulder at where he lies. He's got one hand thrown up near the headboard, and he looks so young she feels like a pedophile. He's actually a couple of months older than she is – Gemini to her Virgo, as they'd discussed last night before getting too drunk – but he doesn't look it. Kurt has such a baby face, which is why she'd been so surprised at the slender musculature under his clothes.

She ties her hair back up into a high ponytail, knowing it might be a bit messy but needing the symbolistic reassurance. She is Quinn Fabray, queen of the Cheerios, and she is in control. She holds her head up high as she ascends the stairs, not letting herself look back at where Kurts remains, sleeping off a hangover to match the one that's punishing her.

It didn't happen. 

* * *

Denial might be the most attractive option, but it's not the easiest one. When she arrives at school the next day, Quinn thinks things are going to be terribly awkward... and she's right.

She's never spent time noticing Kurt Hummel (except to scornfully deride his sense of fashion), but it's like she's developed a sixth sense to know where he is. She's head Cheerio and doesn't have to acknowledge he exists, but all of the sudden she can't stop seeing him. He's everywhere she is, and Quinn watches as he gets tortured by the jocks on an hourly basis.

A part of her wants to make them stop, but she doesn't want to acknowledge that impulse. Kurt is a nobody to her, and there's no way she's going to spend any of her popularity capital on protecting him. He's a guy, and he should be able to stand up for himself.

Thankfully he never makes a move to speak to her, which is unexpected since Kurt seems like the type to want to "talk things out." That's what gay guys are supposed to be like, right? But he never, ever looks directly at her.

She throws herself into being the best Quinn she can be, ruthlessly pushing the Cheerios to work harder, and re-devoting herself to being Finn's girlfriend. She's not going to sleep with him (she's a born-again virgin, okay?), but she decides to allow him a couple extra liberties.

An episode in the hot tub results. Quinn cuts Finn's privileges.

She's convinces herself that things are going to be okay. It's not like sleeping with a gay guy really counts, and it doesn't bother her that Kurt tries to flee when he catches sight of her. She's used to losers getting out of her way.

It's with mixed emotions that she joins the Glee Club, but there's no way she'd going to let Rachel sink her claws into Finn. Her boyfriend will get over this stupid Glee thing soon enough, but Quinn's not taking any chances. She spends the time at club sitting with either Santana or Finn, ignoring the come hither looks Puck keeps subjecting her to.

She certainly doesn't allow herself to notice the way Kurt cringes every time she enters the room. 

* * *

Her attempt at denying she's not a virgin anymore comes to a screeching halt about a month later. Morning sickness is cruel, but she can't avoid the consequences of her actions anymore. The pink positive on the pregnancy test confirms that denial is no longer an option.

This time Quinn does let herself have a panic attack. With the parasite growing inside her, she's lost all of her promises for the future. The shining life that was supposed to be hers won't be, since being an unwed teenaged mother isn't something for her college application. She's going to lose her position on the Cheerios, and as soon as people find out, she's going to become a punchline. No one's going to respect her anymore.

For a second, she's tempted to fix things the easy way. She doesn't want to think about it, but she knows Santana would know people who could help her out. It would take a couple weeks of her allowance, but she could make the problem go away.

The thought doesn't last for long. Whatever else she believes, she _knows_ abortion is wrong and an unforgivable sin. She doesn't want this baby, but she's not going to become a murderer. She just needs to survive the next eight months.

After she makes that decision, the next hard one is figuring out how to explain this. So far, the only ones who know how this baby was created are her and Kurt, and she can't imagine him stepping forward to admit what happened. It's really hard for her not to be pissed off at him, since who would've thought that a gay guy's swimmers would prove so potent? She's going to have to come up with a good story on her own, but thankfully sweet Finn is dumber than a box of rocks and doesn't really know how babies are made. 

* * *

Quinn doesn't count on Puck being a blabbermouth. The boy still resents her for not sleeping with him. An hour after Quinn tells Finn, Finn has talked to Puck, who immediately shares the news with Jacob Ben Israel. By the end of the day, it's all over the school that the president of the Celibacy Club and head Cheerio is preggers.

She can feel all the eyes on her as she makes her way down the hallway, but Finn appears by her side like magic, and no one is going to mess with him. He's such a good guy, she thinks, clutching his arm as they head for the doors. They're going to skip Glee today, though Finn doesn't know it's because she's avoiding a certain fashionable boy.

They're ten feet from the door when the voice of doom lashes out.

"You. Q. My office. Now."

Quinn's heard Sue Sylvester in many different moods (it's amazing that condescension can have so many tones), but she's never heard quite that level of suppressed rage. Quinn's rarely been the cause of Sue's ire, and she knows this is going to be very, very unpleasant.

"You'd better go," she tells Finn, keeping her spine straight as she turns like a condemned man ascending the gallows. "I'll call you later."

She doesn't look back. She knows he's still there, watching her with those pathetic puppy eyes. She doesn't want to see, because he'd make her feel even more guilty.

If that's possible.

Entering Coach Sylvester's office is like walking into a lion's den. It's full of shiny trophies, but Quinn never really notices them since she's always far too busy watching everything her coach does. Quinn is not about to underestimate Sue's capacity for cruelty. She's seen the remains of people who'd ticked Sue off in the past - they might be alive, but they usually wished they weren't.

Now she's about to add herself to their number.

Sue snaps her fingers at the chair in front of her desk. Quinn sits in it gingerly, barely resting her rear on the edge. She tells herself she's ready to make a quick escape if necessary, but the cynical part of her mind reminds her that nothing can stop Sue from murdering her. The woman keeps an AK-47 under her desk, a souvenir from her days in the Congo.

"Jewfro posted a rather insipid attempt at attacking my Cheerios today, Q. First you are going to tell me exactly where he might have gotten the idea that you let Finn Hudson not only go all the way, but impregnate you with his spawn. Then I am going to crush that mouth-breather like the maggot he is, and you will be the instrument of my divine wrath."

Quinn isn't the captain for nothing, and she has to draw on all that strength not to wilt under Sue's regard.

"It's true," she says. Her hand finds her stomach instinctively, knowing that a ball of cells is rapidly dividing and shaping itself into another human being. It kind of blows her mind, what's happening to her. But it gives Quinn a reason to be courageous.

Sue doesn't speak immediately, which worries Quinn. Sue is never without a ready comeback, so her uncharacteristic hesitation means she's about to erupt like Mount Saint Helens (or Finn one minute into a make-out session). Quinn wonders if she's going to walk out of this room alive.

Sue finally huffs in annoyance, reaching over to grab a pen and her Cheerios stationary. After scribbling something down, she hands it over to Quinn. To Quinn's shock, it was not a death threat, but a doctor's name and phone number. "I didn't think I'd have to share this information with you of all my Cheerios, but I have a referral discount with this guy."

Quinn blinks for a second, not quite processing what in her hands, and then she nearly vomits. Getting _it_ done had cross her mind briefly, but she had rejected the idea before it had fully formed. She may be a sinner going to hell for have premarital sex, but she's not going to compound her sins by going through with _it._

She can't even think about what Sue is offering

Wordlessly she crumbles the ball in her fist, before flinging the paper into the trash and standing up so she can look down on Sue for one brief, glorious second. She holds her head high, knowing she's just sealed her fate.

"I can't have a pregnant girl on my squad," Sue Sylvester warns her, rising to her feet as well. "You're off the Cheerios."

Quinn nods, even though she wants to break down and cry. Her very identity is tied around her position as Captain, and she's just lost that. She turns to walk away, but Sue Sylvester can't resist one last, stinging barb.

"You think this is hard? Try being an unwed single mother, _that's_ hard." For once in her life, Sue Sylvester is not using a colorful exaggeration, since the truth is horrifying enough on its own.

Quinn keeps walking. 

* * *

She's glad it's after school hours, since she can stumble down the hall with relatively little fear of someone seeing her. She's supposed to be in Glee today, but she can't bear to face anyone there. She doesn't want to have to deal with Santana's eagerness to replace her, or Rachel's attempts to be her "friend." If Quinn sees Puck right now, she's going to go for his eyes with her fingernails, and she doesn't want to see Finn because she'll feel guilty.

The one person she wants most to avoid Kurt, so it's no surprise to find him standing by her car, waiting for her.

Quinn just isn't getting her way today. It's like she's living in a bad teen sitcom.

Kurt doesn't look like he's ready to laugh at anything. His skin looks waxy and resembles the underside of a dead, two-day old fish, rather than its usual porcelain tones. He's dressed in a ruffly green shirt and contrasting orange and green pants, but she's not in the mood to point out that the sight of him is making her eyes burn. It's not just the clothes, but they're a big part of it.

"What are you doing here, Hummel?" she asks as she makes her way over to the car.

"You know why I'm here," he tells her, and his voice sounds just as superior as ever. "Rumor mill says you're preggers, and I want to take a paternity test."

Her mouth opens and she prepares to deny the very idea that he could be the father, but there's something hard in his eyes that makes the words freeze in her throat. She knows he is one of the smartest boys in the school, and he can do the math.

"You don't need to," she says.

"I think I do," he said. "While I may not have eidetic recall of that night, I remember enough to know there's a very good possibility that I'm going to be a father. And just because I'm gay doesn't mean my sperm doesn't work."

She doesn't understand how he's able to stand there and speak so calmly. His voice is sharp, but he's not scared, not like Finn had been and not like Quinn is.

Quinn has another choice to make, but there's really only one path she can take. While it's tempting to claim Finn as the father, the truth is going to come out. Kurt isn't going to let this go without proof. He's too smart to trust her word.

"That's not what I mean. I haven't slept with anyone else," she tells him, and her eyes feel wet from unshed tears. She's not about to break down, not in front of him."You're the father."

Finn would have stepped forward and hugged her, but Kurt stays a safe three feet away. He is still, so still that he looks like a manikin, and she thinks he's stopped breathing. Then he lets out a sound, a high-pitched sort of whimper, and lifts a hand to run it through his hair, messing up its perfect coiffure. She knows he must be really upset, since the amount of time he spends styling it is is a school joke.

They stand in silence for a couple of long, awkward minutes, and she can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. He is so pale that she thinks he looks like a refugee from the _Twilight_ movies. "I need to think," he tells her finally, before spinning on his heel and walking away.

It's funny, but as she watches his departing back, Quinn feels more lonely than ever. 

* * *

Quinn isn't the type to depend on anyone, so she's not going to wait for Kurt to make up his mind.

She spends the evening in her room, doing her homework like a good little girl. Eating dinner with her parents had been a nightmare, since her father was so proud of her impending coronation as the princess of the Celibacy Ball, and her mother had been fairly well toasted. Quinn can't remember the last time she had spoken to a sober mother.

She vows, right away, that her child will never see her under the influence. She's not sure if she's going to keep it, so it may not be that much of a commitment.

Despite taking honors classes, it doesn't take too long to finish her work. She doesn't have an excuse to procrastinate any longer. She has seven Cheerios uniforms, one for each day of the week, since Sue Sylvester does not recognize the need for weekends. Now that she's off the squad, she is going to have to return all of her gear, pronto. The last thing she wants is for Sue to have a concrete reason to come after her.

She digs through her closet to find all the uniforms, including the accessories. Most of the Cheerios' perks are less tangible – hello tanning privileges which are going to give Santana skin cancer before she turns twenty – but the pile is still sizable. Her closet is half-empty, and she realizes how few outfits she owns that didn't come from cheerleading. She's been on the squad since eighth grade (Sue makes a habit of raiding the nearby middle schools for talent), and for the past three years, Quinn's spent most of her time wearing a uniform.

It's just another reason to get a new wardrobe, she tries to tell herself, not wanting to listen to the cynical little voice in the back of her head that points out she won't have a choice, soon.

It's late enough at night that her parents are going to be in their room "sleeping." Quinn knows her parents have sex on a regimented schedule, and Thursdays at eight are on the calendar. She's used it to her advantage before, breaking curfew in a small display of teenage rebellion

She grabs the first pile of clothing to bring down to her car. She doesn't want to have to explain it to her parents, so she's going to get everything in the car right now. She doesn't worry about the squeaking of the steps, because her mother is being very loud. Thinking of her parents having sex makes her feel queasy, so she refuses to think on what's happening in their room.

Then there's nothing left to do. Quinn isn't very good at the art of laziness. She likes being busy, because she doesn't like to have time to think too deeply.

She could go troll Rachel's MySpace account, but she doesn't want to be a hypocrite. Rachel's blazing, irritating talent might make Quinn want to choke her with a microphone, but Rachel is definitely going to get out of Lima. Quinn's just committed herself to that life, since teenage mothers never get out.

So she does what any good Christian girl would do: she prays. She prays for forgiveness of her sins, and for guidance. She prays for the strength she's going to need, and she prays that her child is healthy. She prays for her family to support her, and she prays for God to stay with her, even though she's not worthy.

As she kneels, the tears start to roll down her face. She lets herself cry and feel sorry for herself, because there's no one around to see except for God, and surely He would understand.

Right?

Usually praying makes her feel more at peace, but this time is different. Her faith in an omnipotent, loving God has been shaken, and she's not sure He wants to hear her anymore since she's failed Him. 

* * *

Around ten, her phone rings. She blinks at the unfamiliar number, wondering who has decided to track her down. It could be a crank call – in fact, it most likely was. It didn't take long for the carrion eaters to smell the death of her popularity. She didn't want to deal with crank calls from her former friends.

But it might be Kurt. He has her number from the Glee contact sheet Mr. Shuester handed out last month, so it's not outside the realm of possibilities. If it is, she wants to know what he's thinking, since the uncertainty is going to drive her insane. She hits the answer button. "Hello?"

There's a long pause, and then he speaks,"Hello, Quinn." Kurt has such a distinctive voice that she recognizes him instantly.

She freezes. She hadn't really expected Kurt to call, and she doesn't know what to say.

"Since I assume you're so overwhelmed due to the honor of speaking with me, I'm going to make this easy. We're going to have dinner together tomorrow at my house. We need to talk," he tells her, "and we can at least do it like civilized people."

She really wants to turn him down, but she can't. Kurt isn't going to back down – through their time in Glee, she's learned that he doesn't back off when there's something he wants. "Fine," she agrees. "Where do you live?"

"Three blocks away from you, princess," he tells her dryly. "Don't you remember?"

It's embarrassing, but she can't remember much of her walk of shame. She'd had a hangover and been trying to collect her dignity. She just wound up at her house, which indicates it is in walking distance. "Not really," she tells him, hating that she's admitting weakness. "Give me directions."

"It's 119 New Karner Road, " he says. "Be there by five." He hangs up a second later, and Quinn wishes she could scratch his eyes out for trying to command her.

She saves his number in her contacts, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

* * *

If yesterday was hard, today verges on almost impossible.

Quinn feels vulnerable as she moves down the hallway without the protection of her Cheerios uniform. Everyone is looking at her – and it's not just her paranoia, because she is the prime gossip fodder. The scandal is delicious for all of those who'd been beneath her in the social hierarchy of McKinley, and that's everyone. There is nothing like gloating over the spectacular fall of the school's It Girl.

It had taken her two hours this morning to decide on what to wear for her debut as the ex-cheerleader. Her depleted wardrobe doesn't offer many options, since her style is "girly girl" and almost everything in it are very feminine dresses. She'd finally picked out a blue and white dress she'd worn to church (church is the one place her parents don't let her wear her uniform, overruling Sue's twenty-four seven mandate). It is strange not to be wearing the ponytail. She'd never liked the hairstyle, but it had defined her as a Cheerio.

She knows she looks good, but that doesn't matter. She's not the hottest thing on campus anymore, since most guys (except for the deviants) think pregnancy is a major turn-off. Even if she's not showing, she still has a loaf in the oven.

She can hear the whispers as she strides down the hall. "Slut" is the politest thing they're saying, and it's totally unfair because Quinn's only ever had sex once (okay, it wasn't with her boyfriend, but she's a lot closer to virginity than eighty percent of her critics). A couple of the jocks make rude gestures at her, and all around her there's laughter, and she's the cause.

Quinn does not like being laughed at.

Finn stands beside her through it all. He's huge and provides good protection from the crowd, and the glare on his face looks out of place but works at deterring people from approaching. His callused hand is warm against her own as he guides her to first period. "It'll be okay," he tells her, leaning down to kiss her at the doorway of the math room. "I'll take care of you."

He is such an idiot, and she knows he can't take care of a goldfish, much less a child. But she watches him leave with wistful eyes, wondering if she's going to be able to keep up the charade. If Kurt can be convinced to stay out of the way, she just might have a chance of making things work out with Finn.

Finn deserves better than her, but she's going to be utterly ruthless and do what's best for her. And that means keeping her claws in her quarterback of a boyfriend.

* * *

While classes are horrible (since even the teachers are staring at her, and pretending not to), lunch is even worse because it's when she's baptized with a slushie.

Finn goes after that asshole Karofsky, but Quinn is frozen to the spot as the icy drink drips down her face. Someone makes a crack about it being a different kind of facial, and Quinn feels a blush of humiliation flood her cheeks. She doesn't know what to do or how to react, so she remains still.

Rachel Berry, of all people, comes to her rescue.

The school's former biggest loser (whose position Quinn usurped), comes up from nowhere and grabs Quinn's elbow. It's a sign of how much shock Quinn's in that she doesn't automatically recoil from the contact.

"Come on," Rachel demands, before pulling her into a girl's restroom. It's not the closest, which confuses Quinn, but when they walk in and she sees Mercedes and Tina there as well. Tina's holding a shower kit. There's a chair in front of the middle sink, and it looks like a warped version of a hair salon.

"We figured you'd get your first slushie today," Mercedes says, her voice more gentle than Quinn would have believed possible.

Twenty-four hours ago, Santana, Brittany and the other Cheerios would have been with her. The idea that she could have been slushied would have been impossible to imagine. Now she's surrounded by the girls she'd mocked, and they're being supportive. She feels like she's in some parallel universe.

"Why are you helping me?" she asks.

The answer comes from the most surprising place. "B-because y-y-you're one of u-u-us," Tina stammers. She holds out a little container of shampoo, and motions for Quinn to sit.

Tina's hands are gentle as she leans Quinn's head back into the sink and uses a paper cup to pour warm water on her hair and face. She shuts her eyes, wishing she could stop wanting to cry.

Their kindness could kill her. She doesn't deserve it.

But maybe this is God's answer to her, a reminder that she is still worth something. God works in mysterious ways.

Tina makes quick work of Quinn's hair, and then it's Mercedes turn. Mercedes has moisturizer and makeup, but the colors are surprisingly right for Quinn's pale complexion.

"Kurt told us to use his products, since he's the closest to your coloring," Mercedes says as she pulls out a bottle of foundation and uses a cotton ball to smooth it over Quinn's face.

Quinn can't help but flinch at hearing his name, now. Her reaction doesn't go unnoticed. The other girls exchange quick looks.

"I know the popular clique may think he's contagious, but you're not going to catch the gay from him or using his things," Mercedes scolds gently. "He's one of the neatest people I've ever met."

"It's not that," Quinn says. She shuts her eyes so Mercedes can apply mascara to her lashes.

"K-Kurt's a n-n-nice guy," Tina says. "Y-you sh-should give h-h-him a chance."

Quinn's already given him more of a chance than anyone else. The proof is growing inside her stomach.

"I know that your Evangelical Christian upbringing has made you homophobic, but it's a valid lifestyle choice. I was raised by two gay dads, and I turned out pretty well," Rachel announces.

The other girls keep silent, not pointing out the obvious.

* * *

She goes to Glee, because she skipped yesterday and Glee is all she has left. Finn sits beside her, wrapping her hand in his protectively.

She's surprised to see Brittany and Santana there, but they're in the back row, smirking at her in a not-nice way. She guesses Sue has ordered them to keep up their efforts to destroy the club. Puck is sitting next to Santana, and he avoids meeting Quinn's eyes.

Good. She would've slapped the motherfucker.

It's really a sign of how far she's been pushed in the last few days that she's swearing inside her head. Puck is a literal motherfucker, but Quinn is averse to swearing. Maybe if her life continues its downward spiral into loserdom, she might swear aloud.

Rachel walks into the choir room and offers Quinn a big smile, before flashing the same one at Finn. Quinn briefly considers blaming Rachel for the pregnancy, since Quinn never would have slept with Kurt if Finn hadn't been distracted by the diva.

She doesn't know what to expect from Kurt. Although they share a couple of classes, he hadn't reacted to her presence at all during the day. He didn't do anything to indicate he knew her, but at least he hadn't joined in the gossip. That's a small blessing, because there's plenty of others willing to pick up the slack.

He walks into the choir room last, striding over to take the seat next to Mercedes. Mercedes grins at him, immediately turning to talk about something fashion related. Kurt listens to Mercedes, but is uncharacteristically quiet.

Quinn watches him, evaluating. Kurt's standoffish, even with people he calls his friends. Most people are secretly of in awe of him and his guts to act like a gay stereotype, especially since he joined the football team. He'd secured them their first win in three seasons, which omphed his popularity quotient considerably. He is smart, and he dresses well. He obviously has money, and what little Quinn knows about child rearing indicates it's going to be expensive.

He has all the qualities Finn is missing, but he lacks Finn's greatest attribute: he can't protect her.

He can't even protect himself.

Kurt keeps his eyes on Mercedes, letting the black girl babble, and not sparing a look for Quinn. Quinn reminds herself not to feel jealous, because she's seated beside her handsome quarterback boyfriend. At dinner tonight, she's going to make sure Kurt knows where he stands with her – which is absolutely nowhere. Finn, she decides, is going to be the father of her child. Everyone will be better off that way.

* * *

The hour between the end of Glee and their scheduled dinner is easy to fill. Quinn goes down to the public library, checking out a couple of books on pregnancy. The librarian asks if she's doing a book report, and Quinn just smiles and nods.

Quinn's education is lacking. Her parents had signed her out of health class, since Ohio isn't an "abstinence only" education state. Pregnancy is one of those things she'd never been particularly curious about, because it was God's miracle that wouldn't take place until she was happily married.

As she flips through _The Ultimate Week-By-Week Pregnancy Guide_ she is horrified. The book babbles about the joy of pregnancy, but Quinn thinks it looks uncomfortable and weird and at the end is hours of agonizing labor, all for a baby which she most likely will give up.

She is going to end up with _stretch marks._

It's almost enough for her to consider having Sue make a referral.

But it is God's miracle, and even if she is miserable, she has to trust that this is part of His plan.

* * *

She's running two minutes late. Kurt seems like the kind of person to notice that.

Quinn hits the buzzer on his door before she can have a chance to think about what she's doing. She hopes he answers quickly, because she really doesn't want to explain what she's doing if someone sees her outside his home. She knows the jock squad makes irregular passes by his house, usually throwing eggs or leaving burning dog crap on his porch.

Kurt, thankfully, seems to be waiting for her because the door opens immediately.

"Come in," he says, gesturing for her to enter with a very effeminate waggle of his fingers. He steps away from the door, and she notices his clothing. It's still high-quality, with brand-name jeans and a nice top, but he's lacking the usual abundance of layers and accessories that make him the focus of so much mockery.

Kurt looks more approachable. It's a surprise, but a pleasant one.

"Thanks," she says, not bothering to restrain her curiosity about his residence. She doesn't remember much of it from before. The house isn't anything like she is expecting, either.

The house is tidy, but not immaculate. As he leads her through the living room, she thinks that while the furniture is good and the place is clean, it's not museum-pristine. The place looks lived in, with slight signs of wear and hints of personality like the huge array of magazines piled on the coffee table.

Her friends have always been impressed when visiting her home, saying things like, "Your house looks like it belongs in a magazine!" It does, too, and she is proud of her home. It's hard to live in, though. Ever since she was little, she's been very aware of the need to maintain appearances. There's several chairs in her house she's never sat in, knowing that getting them mussed would send her parents through the roof.

"The kitchen's this way. I figured we could work on making dinner together."

"Sounds fun," Quinn said, lying through her teeth. None of the Home Ec classes she's taken have ever sunk in, and she doesn't think it's a great idea to be having this conversation with knives at hand.

He doesn't notice, pushing her into a well-appointed, but not overly elaborate kitchen. It's a sunshine yellow with dark blue counter tops. There's no cute theme (like her mother's cow-patterns and decorated utensils and plates and furnishings) running through the kitchen. Instead, it's clean but utilitarian.

There's ingredients out on an island, a pile of vegetables and a couple of empty dishes. The lettuce has been shredded into bite-size pieces, but nothing else is completed. "There's an apron in the drawer if you'd like," he offers.

She shakes her head. "I'll be okay," she says, stepping over to the sink to wash her hands. Kurt shrugs, picking up the knife and works on chopping tomatoes.

As soon as her hands are clean, she turns back to him. He's doing okay with his dicing, but the pieces aren't perfectly even. She would have thought he'd be a better cook since it's kind of another aspect of the gay stereotype. Maybe the fact that he can cook is enough, since none of her friends do.

"What can I do to help?"

He gestures to the carrots. "How about shredding those?"

She picks up the vegetable peeler and grabs an empty bowl, figuring they can mix things together after they've finished. She's standing across the island, but she doesn't feel comfortable getting too close to him. She scrapes the outside of the carrots into a paper towel before working on shredding it into the bowl. Quinn isn't used to manual labor, and she finds it more challenging than she expects.

She frowns, her stubborn streak kicking in. She's an honor roll student. She can do this.

Quinn's concentrating so hard that she forgets to feel awkward. She manages to work through three carrots before remembering where she is.

Kurt's assembled everything else, placing each ingredient in its own bowl. The timer goes off and he's pulling a meatloaf out of the oven and setting it on a potholder. "Are you in the mood for rolls?" he asks.

A week ago, she would have rejected the carbs without a second thought. But the pregnancy book had warned her she was going to get fat, so why fight it? "Sure," she says.

"Help me bring everything over to the table, and we can start."

The table is small, not at all like the dining room her family eats in every evening. Kurt manages to squeeze all the bowls and the meatloaf onto the table, before pulling out a bread basket. Without asking, he fills up two glasses of milk and sets one in front of her.

Quinn's never been a big fan of milk. She glares at the cup, before deciding to just ignore it. Getting into a fight over something trivial isn't going to help her right now. They have something much, much more significant to fight about.

"Do you want to say grace?" he asks.

Quinn's become used to other kids making sly jabs about her faith. She blinks, wondering if he is mocking her. His face just shows curiosity. "Thank you," she says, before putting her hands together to pray. It's better to hold hands during grace, but she doesn't think Kurt wants to touch her. She's not particularly keen on the idea, either. She murmurs the prayer, and Kurt joins in for the "Amen."

They pick up their forks in unison, but Quinn hesitates before digging in. She hasn't eaten a real meal since joining the Cheerios. Sue Sylvester is a staunch advocate of a liquid-only diet, and Quinn feels guilty staring at the food. Even though she is off the squad, the habits that have been trained into her are hard to ignore.

Maybe she should eat just a bit of lettuce. Changing her diet all at once can't be a good idea.

Kurt notices she hasn't begun eating yet. The fork pauses at his plate. "Do you want me to cut it up for you?" he asks.

She glares at him. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."

"Are you?" he asks. "I seem to recall the Cheerio diet fad that swept through the school six months ago. Master Cleanse does not good nutrition make."

"I'm not using Master Cleanse," she snapped back. She didn't need anything to induce vomiting, since pregnancy was taking good care of that.

"You're not used to eating right, either. You need to eat properly," he tells her. "It's not just you you're feeding."

Quinn hadn't thought of that. She's been thinking of what carrying the baby would do to her body, but not what she needs to do to carry a baby. She just hadn't made the connection.

It's really hard to overcome years of indoctrination. Quinn decides that if she's off the Cheerios, she might as well find a silver lining, like rediscovering the taste of solid food.

The food tastes heavenly. Quinn uses ranch dressing on her salad (low fat, but it's _dressing_), and eats two servings of the meatloaf. She reminds herself that she doesn't have to worry about next week's weigh-in.

Kurt's eating small portion sizes as well. He eats half his salad before putting his fork down. "Why did you say Finn was the father?"

Quinn stiffens, wondering why he would start with that question. The answer is blindingly obvious. "Because I wanted him to be," she said. "If I wanted a child at all, it would be with him."

And that's true, because of all the guys she knows, Finn is closest to her ideal boyfriend. He's gorgeous and kind, and he lets her be in charge of the relationship. She likes having a guy whom she can boss around and who treats her like a princess. Best of all, no one would dare to mess with him, since he's the most popular boy in school.

"I see," he says. Kurt is none of those things, she can't help but think. He's handsome in a pretty kind of way, but he's not masculine. She doesn't know Kurt well enough to say if he's kind or not, but he does have a razor sharp wit he turns mercilessly on people who annoy him. Kurt definitely isn't going to do whatever she wants him to – she wouldn't be here if it was her choice, after all.

And it goes without saying that people loved messing with Kurt.

She must have been silent for too long, because Kurt is asking another question. She has to ask him to repeat himself since she was too lost in thought to hear it the first time.

"What have your parents said?"

Quinn feels the blood drain from her face. She still hasn't told them that she isn't a Cheerio anymore. Her mother and father are still making plans for the Chastity Ball. There's no way in hell she's going to tell them she had premarital sex that has resulted in an impending child.

Kurt, once again, displays that almost uncanny ability to read her mind. "You didn't tell them," he says, rather than asks. He sighs, shaking his head. "You need to. My dad took it pretty well, all thing considered.

"You told your father?"

"Of course I told my father," he tells her witheringly. "He's about to become a grandfather."

"But-but..." She wonders if this is what a panic attack feels like. "He might tell my parents!"

"Do you think you can keep being pregnant a secret?" The look he levels on her questions her intelligence. "You're maybe 100 pounds right now, so you're going to gain at least thirty pounds. It's going to be impossible to hide it."

She's so upset she doesn't realize she's slapped him until she feels the tingle in her fingers. She's on her feet, leaning over the table, with no memory of rising.

Kurt stares at her, shocked. He raises a hand to his cheek, which is rapidly turning pink. She doesn't think he's going to bruise, but she's disgusted with herself for losing control so dramatically.

She cringes, waiting for him to retaliate.

His fingers fall away from his skin, and he looks at her with narrowed eyes. "Let's get one thing clear. I will not be your punching bag."

"But you'll be everyone else's?" she exclaims, thinking of all the times she's seen him abused. "Do you even know how to fight?"

"I'll fight you for custody," he tells her. "Don't think that I won't drag this whole mess into public, because I sure as hell will."

Before, she'd always thought of Kurt as a wuss for taking whatever the jocks dished out to him. He'd never broken down in tears or begged to be spared, but he hadn't fought back. She had thought it was because he was a wimp.

Now she thinks that Kurt ignored the abuse because it wasn't that important to him.

Not like their child is going to be.

"Why are you doing this?" she demands. "I don't understand why you want to be involved!" If Quinn had a choice, she certainly wouldn't be stepping forward to claim responsibility for a teenage pregnancy.

She's made him angry.

"Because _it's my child,_" he growls. "There is nothing in this world that's going to stop me from being part of his life."

"You don't know it's a boy."

"The masculine pronoun is an acceptable substitute in English when the gender is unknown," he says, rolling his eyes. "Do you want to argue linguistics with me, or are you going to admit I'm right?"

Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. It's probably a good thing, since there's no way of telling what she would say, except that it would probably be cruel. She makes herself sit back down, not wanting to escalate things anymore.

Kurt is visibly struggling to remain calm. He takes a deep breath, before letting it out slowly. "I can understand why you might be overwrought, but I'm not happy about this, either. The best thing we can do it figure out the best plan to deal with our impending parenthood."

Logically, she knows he's right. Emotionally, she doesn't. She very much wants to stick her head in the sand and pretend her life is going to go back to normal.

"I need time to think," she tells him. "You can't expect me to make decisions right now."

"Time is not on our side here. I'll give you until Monday," he tells her. "After that, I'm stepping forward."

She shuts her eyes, but doesn't say anything. There's really nothing to say. Kurt isn't going to let her keep lying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

* * *

Quinn never likes to think of herself as a coward, but the last couple weeks has forced her to admit she doesn't really know who she is. So she decides to break the news to Finn the safest way possible, using the method preferred by modern teenagers for delivering bad news.

Text message. Her hands shake as she keys in the words for the third time (using complete sentences because text speak is so stupid). Finally she pushes the send button.

Her: _The baby isn't yours._

Finn: _wtf_

Her: _Sorry I lied. _

Finn: _who is_

Her: _Kurt Hummel._

There's no response.

She probably could have handled it better, but at least the truth is out. 

* * *

Finn pounds Kurt into a pulp the next day, giving him two black eyes, a broken rib, and more bruises than anyone can count.

Quinn doesn't witness this first hand. The grapevine – fueled by Jewfro's website – says that when Kurt had arrived at school, Finn had jumped him. Jacob's website is unable to get an exact quote of what Finn had been screaming, but all witnesses agree that he accused Kurt of fucking Quinn behind his back. The beating he'd given Kurt had been bad enough that _Puck_ had to intervened to keep Finn from committing murder.

Most of the student body thinks the pressure has gotten to be too much for Finn, because seriously. _Kurt Hummel_ as a future baby daddy is just too funny, and even Brittany realizes Kurt is gay with a capital G. Now, if it had been Puck who'd Finn decided to blame, that might have been more believable. But Kurt wouldn't know what to do with a girl.

Quinn finds the idea amusing, in a sad sort of way. There is no way Puck would ever mess with Finn like that, even though he is a world class manwhore. Bros before hos and all of the male-bonding no homo stuff.

Most of the school is treating it as a joke. Finn is sent to Ms. Pillsbury's office for emergency counseling, but they're not going to suspend him without a parent-teacher conference first. Principal Figgins is such a wimp about actually disciplining his students that Finn goes to classes after third period rather than getting suspended or expelled.

Quinn skips all hers, hiding out under the bleachers and wondering if she should text Kurt to find out if he's okay. 

* * *

She spends the day browsing the net on her laptop, toying with TMZ and Facebook. Every ten minutes, she refreshes Jacob's site, looking for the latest McKinley news. It's kind of amazing Jacob is in the top ten students of their class, since he spends all his time blogging.

The comments under his post about Finn's mental breakdown start out fairly standard, but about five comments in a thread begins about how slutty Quinn is. Several of the posters claim to have fucked her. Jacob's next post is a poll about who the real baby daddy is if it's not Finn. Kurt doesn't have any votes, and Puck is in first place. It's insulting, but Mr. Schuester is in second place. While Mr. Schuester is cute for a teacher, he's also ancient and the idea of sleeping with him makes her feel nauseous.

Well, it's that or the Twinkies she's been eating all day. She's blaming that dietary lapse on the pregnancy.

She hates, hates, _hates_ being the center of ridicule, and she cannot find strong enough words to express her rage at Jacob for feeding it. She knows hate is a sin, but it's minor compared to everything else she's done wrong. She's entitled to daydream of the ways she would like to punish Jewfro for leading the gawkers.

She thinks about going home at the end of the day, but she really can't leave things as they are. Confronting Finn face to face is unavoidable, since they are in the same school and share several classes together, not to mention Glee.

She leaves her refuge fifteen minutes after the last bell has sounded. She anticipates that will give her enough time to get safely to the choir room. The few students in the hall are the usual delinquents, and none of them care enough to try to mess with her. She almost makes it, before nausea gets the better of her and she has to run to the restroom to empty her stomach. Going through an entire box of Twinkies had been a mistake.

Quinn spends the next couple minutes throwing up. She thought she's be done with vomiting once she was off Master Cleanse, but morning sickness (or in her case, any-time-of-the-day sickness) is a bitch.

She's the last one to arrive.

Everyone is staring at her, which she is getting used to, but no one makes a move to welcome her, not even Mr. Schue. This is what it is like to be a social pariah.

Finn is sitting off to the side, and she spares a moment to wonder why he's still here instead of suspended already. It's not fair, but the immunity he receives as quarterback of the school's losing football team covers a lot of ground.

"Hi, Quinn," Mr. Schue says, and he looks a bit nervous. "Why don't you, um, have a seat..." He waves around the room vaguely, actually pointing to the band's empty seats instead of with the rest of the club.

Quinn considered sitting down there for a moment, before deciding it was time to remember her inner bitch. "I'd like to make an announcement."

Mr. Schue just nods. He's never very good in a crisis or mediating when something is wrong.

She takes a couple of steps and stands in front of the choir. There's ten people here. Kurt is probably still at the Emergency Room, since Lima Hospital is notorious for keeping people in the waiting room. Kurt had demanded she make her decision by Monday, but Quinn knows that she can't keep lying anymore.

"This is a public service announcement," she says. "I lied about the baby being Finn's. Kurt is my real baby daddy, and no, I'm not joking. Please consider this a warning about the danger of teenage use of alcohol."

There isn't a sound, and Quinn isn't brave enough to actually look anyone in the face to gauge their reaction. She focuses her gaze on the back wall, her hands resting on her hips combatively.

"Are you joking?" someone asks, and she thinks it's Puck. "Cause I don't think Kurt could get it up for a girl, even if she is a babe."

"I'm not joking!" she snaps, her eyes falling to glare at Puck. She's never really liked him, and now he's definitely high on her shit list.

Puck smiles, and there's nothing nice about it. He claps Finn on the shoulder, and says, "Dude, you must be really bad in bed if your girl cheats on you with a gay guy."

Finn growls something unintelligible, but Quinn has had enough.

"It's not Kurt's fault," Quinn snaps. "He didn't even want to sleep with me, but we were both very, very drunk and you were too busy flirting with RuPaul to pay attention to me!"

"So it's my fault you decided to sleep with a fag?" Finn replies, rising to his feet and stalking toward her dangerously.

She's never seen Finn this angry before. One of the things she's always liked about him is his incredible kindness, but apparently even he has a breaking point.

It's so, so tempting to blame Finn, but that isn't going to help. Quinn would like to have someone to shoulder the responsibility - someone who isn't her – but this is a mess of her own making. Then what he said registers, and she finds her voice. "Don't call him that," she replies. "It's hateful."

"And I'm not allowed to hate the guy who got my girlfriend pregnant?"

Her hand reaches out and she slaps him across the face. It's the second time she's slapped someone inside the last twenty-four hours, but this slap she doesn't regret. "Don't make this about you, Finn," she yells, not caring that she's screaming at the top of her lungs. She's so angry right now, and him being a jackass isn't helping. "You should be happy – you're off the hook."

His pulls back his own hand and for a second she thinks he's going to hit her, too. But Finn has always been too much of a gentleman to hit a girl, even one he's pissed off at. Instead he catches himself, before turning to storm out of the room, kicking a couple of convenient chairs on the way.

Quinn doesn't bother to stay for Glee rehearsal. What's the point? She's already given the most dramatic performance of the day. 

* * *

She gets into her car and ends up sitting for half an hour. She feels like crying, but is too tired to. She knows that with the spectacle her pregnancy has created, it's only a matter of time until her parents find out. There's too many people who are enjoying the downfall of the Celibacy Princess.

She stares at the steering wheel between her hands, trying to sort out her thoughts. It occurs to her that she has a car and a credit card, so there's nothing to stop her from just driving away. She could be in New York City in ten hours if she leaves now.

Thinking of New York makes her think of Rachel – and Kurt. They're the kinds of people that belong in that city. Quinn used to hope she'd get out of Lima. She had thought she'd go to Bethel College or some other rigorous Christian-based university that understood her beliefs, a school where she wouldn't be fighting against the liberal culture of promiscuity and godlessness.

How far the mighty had fallen.

It occurs to her that this unexpected pregnancy is going to fuck up Kurt's life, too. It had been a given that he would get out – there is no place for him in Lima, so leaving is his only choice. Now, Kurt seems ready to embrace being a teen father.

And everyone knows teen fathers end up working at Wal-Mart.

She shuts her eyes, trying to imagine Kurt in one of those blue polyester vests and failing utterly. The image is ludicrous. Kurt isn't the kind of guy who's going to end up in a dead-end job.

And neither is she. She takes a deep breath, and tells herself to stop thinking too hard about the future and to take things one step at a time.

Quinn's almost calm when her car door opens and someone plops down in the seat next to her. She looks over to see a very unhappy Mercedes. Quinn's never had much to do with Mercedes, who is so very... black. Quinn's never really dealt with someone who isn't white (Santana doesn't count since Santana is a Cheerio and that is her defining ethnic group), and doesn't know what to do.

But she is good enough with other people to recognize that Mercedes is prepared to tear her a new one.

"What do you want?" she demands, neglecting the usual condescending nickname she normally would attach to a Gleek because she doesn't want to do anything to make things even worse. Besides, most of the ones she can think of for Mercedes count as racially intolerant.

"What I want, white girl, is to know exactly how you managed to get my man Kurt into bed with you," Mercedes says. She is frowning.

Quinn feels afraid, though she will never admit it. "Alcohol is a miracle drug," she says. "It makes gay kids temporarily straight and celibacy queens have sex."

Mercedes only frowns more deeply, and Quinn can't help but remember all her threats to cut someone. "I'm not buying it. I don't think Kurt could ever... you know... with a girl."

"The baby I'm carrying begs to differ," Quinn replies angrily. She really isn't in the mood for this. She can understand Mercedes being upset since two weeks ago she'd led an effort to convince Mercedes Kurt was interested in her, which had resulted in Mercedes smashing the window of Kurt's Navigator. It still isn't any of Mercedes' business if Kurt is able to function with a girl. Kurt would _never_ get it on with her.

Quinn is feeling a bit possessive at the moment. She's just lost her cool boyfriend, and all she has is Kurt. She doesn't really want him, but she's not going to let anyone else have him until she decides what to do.

Mercedes takes a couple of deep breaths, visibly struggling to keep hold of her famous temper. "Fine. Then let me just tell you something. If you do _anything_ to hurt him, I'm going to make you wish you were never born. Kurt's my boy."

A week ago, Quinn would have mocked Mercedes for her painfully obvious crush. Just because she'd realized he was gay didn't mean Mercedes had fallen out of love. If there was justice in the world, it would have been Mercedes who ended up pregnant by Kurt, and Quinn could have happily been leading the campaign to deride them. If only Mercedes had been at that party, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

There's so many "if onlys" in Quinn's life.

But right now Quinn has to deal with this very unpleasant reality.

"I don't want to hurt him, but this whole mess is going to end badly for both of us," she says. "Can you think of anything more worth mocking?"

A bit of Mercedes' anger fades away, and she reaches out to place her hand on top of Quinn's shoulder. "Least you're not a cliché," Mercedes tells her. "If it was Finn, well, they'd already have a stockpile of internet jokes to pull on. They've got to write all new jokes for this situation. You can at least claim to be hot enough to turn a gay guy straight."

It's not that funny, but suddenly the ridiculousness of the whole affair gets to her. She starts laughing – it's better than crying – about how absurd it is for the head cheerleader to be pregnant by one of the school's biggest losers. It's even funnier when you add in their personalities – Quinn, the religious devotee to celibacy, and Kurt, the queeniest queen who ever queened.

She laughs until she can't breathe, and Mercedes sits next to her, rubbing her back soothingly. Mercedes is singing something soothing, and Quinn makes herself focus on the song, rather than thinking about her life. Quinn doesn't recognize it, which makes her think it's something black.

Quinn calms down enough to gather herself. "Thank you," she says. "I need to go home now."

"What did your parents say when you told them?" Mercedes wants to know.

Quinn remains silent.

"You have told your parents, right?"

No, she hasn't told her parents.


	4. Chapter 4

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

_

* * *

_

It goes about as well as she expected. Forty-three minutes after confessing her pregnancy, she's homeless.

She ends up on Kurt's doorstep, not knowing why she's seeking him out first. She still has her car, which now has a trunk full of almost all her earthly possessions. Her father had given her thirty minutes to pack, and she'd thrown everything into boxes, racing up and down the stairs. She'd managed to grab everything she wanted, but it's in a jumbled pile and she doesn't know where she can put it.

She's not even thinking as she rings the doorbell. Kurt opens it up a couple of seconds later, and she stumbles inside, feeling lost and confused.

He's dressed in sweats, and his hair is damp around his face. She wonders if she's in some parallel universe, because the Kurt she knows isn't the type to wear anything not designer. It's a really strange thought to be having. Maybe she's dreaming, or maybe she's just in shock.

He stares at her for a long moment, before he sighs. "Do you need someplace to stay?" he asks.

She nods, unable to speak. She can't meet his eyes.

"You can crash here tonight, but my father will have to give permission before you can move in."

He's kind enough to make her a cup of tea, which she doesn't bother drinking. Her throat is too tight to swallow. He sits beside her in silence for the first half hour. She hardly notices he's there, too numb to care at the moment.

She can feel the weight of the cross against her neck, which is unusual because she wears it so often she forgets it's there except when someone is attacking her faith. Her father gave it to her for her first communion, and she's worn it ever since.

For a second, Quinn thinks of ripping it off her neck and throwing it into the Hummel's trash compactor. Her hand rises to do so, but she manages to get control before she can. She's lost her reputation, her popularity, her boyfriend, her family and her home. Her faith is the only thing she has left, and she's not going to let that be taken from her.

She will be Job. She will suffer, and not abandon her Lord, her Savior.

It could be worse. Kurt is here, and he wants to take responsibility. He's better than any of the teen fathers on _Sixteen and Pregnant,_ although he cannot be what she really needs. She wishes he'd hug her or let her cry on his shoulder, but she's not comfortable enough with him to presume he won't flinch away if she tries to touch him first. She wants someone to tell her things are going to be okay.

No one can make that kind of promise, though.

Burt Hummel arrives home at seven. He stands on the threshold of the room, and for a second Quinn tries to figure out what the blue collar man is doing in Kurt's home, before she realizes he's Kurt's father. There's very little physical resemblance, but she can see the confidence this man has in himself, and recognizes where Kurt's come from. There's also something similar about the eyes – Kurt does have very pretty eyes.

"So you're Quinn," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks at her like she's something on the bottom of his shoe.

"Yes, sir," she says. He is the kind of man to automatically deserve a "sir."

He stares at her for a long moment, his eyes settling on her stomach. "I wasn't expecting to be a grandfather, ever," he tells her.

"I wasn't expecting to be an unwed teenage mother," she replies, the words slipping from her lips before she has a chance to think about it. She knows she's not making a good first impression, but the last week has been so utterly hellish that she can't bring herself to care.

Or maybe she cares too much. Everyone else hates her, so what's one more person added to that list?

"Quinn," Kurt says, his voice a bit sharp. "Can you go down to my room so I can talk to my dad?"

She nods, starting to rise, but Burt holds out a hand to stop her. "She should stay. We have no secrets in this family."

Being referred to as part of their family makes her dissolve into tears. She's cried so much lately that she thought she was out of tears, but being kicked out had raised the whole bar on how much her life sucks. Unlike most guys, Kurt doesn't panic as she cries. He reaches out and starts to rub his hand against her back soothingly, and she finds herself clutching his sweatshirt as she cries herself out.

She feels, more than hears, his voice coming from his diaphragm, but she's not really listening. He's talking to his father, and she doesn't have a father anymore. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it _hurts..._

* * *

When she wakes up, she's disorientated. For a second, she feels a moment of panic as she stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling. Rolling over, she's met by the sight of pristine white walls, and she realizes she's in Kurt's room. Unlike the first time she'd wound up here, Kurt is not beside her. In fact, he's not even in the room at all.

She lays in place for several moments, not really wanting to get up and face the world. Glancing over at the clock, she startles when she sees it is after nine. She is late for school.

Why hadn't Kurt woken her up?

She untangles herself from the blankets and sheets, smoothing her hands over her hair and she races upstairs. She can grab some of her clothes from her car, and be on her way in fifteen minutes. Kurt might think he's being kind by letting her skip school, but she's angry. She needs to keep her grades high if she wants even the slimmest chance of being anything except yet another a welfare mother.

She opens the door and stops dead in her tracks at the sight of Kurt, sitting on the couch drinking coffee. He's wearing another loose sweatsuit, and now that she's not so upset, she can see the bruises that discolor his face. Finn had really whaled on him yesterday, and she hadn't even noticed.

He looks up from the magazine he's perusing. "There's fresh coffee in the pot," he says, before shaking his head. "On second thought, forget I said that. I'm not sure if caffeine is good for pregnant women."

"Is it the weekend or something, because I thought we had school?"

"I'm taking a mental health day, and I decided to let you sleep in. Seemed like you might want one, too."

"I can't afford to miss classes," she retorts, before turning for the door.

"_We_ can't afford not to sit down and make plans," he snaps back, before taking a deep breath, struggling to keep control of his quick temper. "Sorry. I mean, we need to sit down and have a serious discussion about what to do."

"Like our first caring is sharing session wasn't enough? Are we supposed to bond over our feelings of how much the world utterly sucks and hates us?"

"No. I want to discuss getting married."

Quinn wonders if she's still asleep, because he couldn't have just said what she thought she'd heard. "Excuse me?"

He sighs and tosses the magazine aside. "I know I'm not what you want, but we need to consider what's best for our kid. I've been thinking about it, and getting married is the best of a lot of bad alternatives."

She ends up sitting on the coffee table. Her legs are too weak to support her. "Married?" she echoes, realizing he's serious. If Kurt was like Finn, she'd accuse him of being an idealistic idiot, but Kurt is way too smart to think a wedding band is going to fix things.

"I can take care of you both," he tells her. "We're not in love, but we can at least make a family. I love him enough to do this. That's what a good father does – he always puts the welfare of his child first."

She isn't sure she loves the child she's carrying. Quinn knows it made her a horrible person. She loved her reputation. She loved being a Cheerio and her popularity. She loved her parents. She even kind of sort of loved Finn. Maybe she still loves them, but they're all beyond her reach now.

"I..." Her mouth hangs open as she can't find the words to say. She should be rejecting the idea out of hand, but a part of her is intrigued. "We're sixteen."

"People used to get married all the time at our age."

"People used to believe the earth was flat!"

He presses his fingertips against his temples, like he's trying to suppress a headache. "Can I at least tell you my reasons?"

She nods.

"A child should have both parents," Kurt says. It's a surprisingly conservative attitude coming from the boy who's so cutting edge. "And I know you believe inside that should be married to have a child. It's part of the reason you hate yourself so much right now. I don't believe that, but it's something I can accept. And I want to take care of you," he tells her. "You probably think I'm kidding, but I'm not."

He reaches into the back of the magazine, pulls out a couple of sheets of paper, and hands them over to her.

She blinks, confused, before she recognizes what she's holding. It's a bank account statement. The amount in it makes her eyes go wide – it's more than her father makes in a year. In _three_ years.

"This is yours?"

"It's money my father gets paid for my upkeep. He uses it to pay off my credit card bills."

"Your father gets paid to keep you?"

"It's from my trust."

"You're a trust fund baby?"

"How else do you think I get my fabulous wardrobe?" He poses in his chair for a second. "The money is no substitute for having a mother, though."

"What do you mean? Did your mother run off and has to pay child support? "

He was quiet for a long moment before speaking. "There was a settlement after my mother's death."

She doesn't know a thing about him. She keeps making assumptions, and stepping right into landmines.

"I'm sorry," she says lamely. The apology falls flat.

"It is what it is," he says, shrugging.

She stares down at the bank statement in her hands. It occurs to her that this is the answer to her problems. Kurt has money, and she's having his baby. She can go to court and get him to pay child support. She can keep her baby and live off Kurt's money, and everything will start to make sense again.

It would be a bitch thing to do, and everyone knows Quinn Fabray is the HBIC. It should be easy.

"Can I have some time to think about this?"

"Of course," he agrees. "This isn't something to decide on an impulse."

* * *

Quinn goes into school that afternoon, since knocking around Kurt's house is uncomfortable. Kurt has offered her marriage and a return to a weird sort of respectability, but she needs space to make her decision. It speaks to how far she's fallen that school is the only refuge she can think of. None of her former friends will talk to her, her family has disowned her, and she doesn't feel right going to church with so grave a sin on her shoulders.

Funny how fair weather everyone in her life has proved to be. It's almost enough to make her laugh, if she didn't think that she would devolved into hysterics if she lets any of her iron-will control go. She's spent the last couple days bursting into the tears at the drop of a hat, and she's sick of it.

She arrives just after lunch, in time to catch her world history class. When she walks in, there's a hiss of whispers, but she doesn't pay attention to what they're saying. She goes to the front of the room and sits down, flipping her notebook open and poising her pencil to take notes.

Quinn spends the whole period ignoring the steady pelt of spitballs, hitting her like raindrops. She doesn't want to think of what the back of her hair looks like. She refuses to give them the satisfaction of getting to her.

She holds her head high as the bell rings, and she gathers her belongings. A couple of the girls giggle as they pass her seat, hissing rude remarks that she won't listen to. She waits until most of the classroom has cleared before stepping back into the hall.

Quinn is Hester Prynne, and she feels like everyone can see the "A" she's wearing on the sleeve of her cheerleading uniform. Except she's no longer a Cheerio, and doesn't have a uniform. Her identity at the school has been taken away.

She goes to her locker to get her Spanish textbook, only to encounter one of the top five people she wanted to avoid. Jacob Ben Israel is smiling evilly, and she can't think of a way this can end well. A month ago she could scare him off with a couple well chosen words about the possibility of Jacob spending his entire life celibate. She misses that power, almost as much as she misses her friends.

"So, my readers want the scoop on exactly how the Celibacy Queen ended up preggers by the president of the school's Out and Proud Club," Jacob says, holding the recorder under her nose. "You'd better talk, because otherwise I'm going to start _speculating_."

She glares, trying to think of something to say that isn't going to backfire. To her shock, someone else speaks before she can make things worse.

"I thought we talked about this, Jewfro. If you start _speculating_ about my boy, I'm going to cut you," a sassy voice says from behind her. Mercedes, dressed in hot pink, steps up next to her, leaning forward belligerently into Jacob's space. Jacob steps back a couple paces, automatically intimidated. "And Quinn's covered under that threat."

"You're interfering with my First Amendment rights!"

"We're in high school. You can wave that Bill of Rights all you want, but it's not gonna protect you from a patriotic wedgie. Get out of here, now," Mercedes says, and her smile is worse than unpleasant.

Jacob trips over his own feet in his haste to leave. Quinn blinks, looking at Mercedes, who just shrugs.

"People expect a big, black woman to be scary, so I go with it," she says. "Never mind that my dad's on the school board and would throw a fit if I got detention."

"Thank you," Quinn says, the words feeling strange. "But why..."

"You're a Gleek now," Mercedes tells her. "The kids in Glee have got your back."

Quinn, who has been wallowing in all she has lost, can't find anything to say.

"C'mon. Let's wash that crap out of your hair, and I'll give you Loser Survival 101 lessons," Mercedes continues with a playful grin, reaching out and hooking her arm through Quinn's. "To start, if you're gonna sit in the front row, make sure you sit right in front of where the teacher is. The assholes won't want to risk hitting them."

Mercedes makes quick work of removing the spitballs before escorting her to her Spanish class. Mr. Schue just looks up and doesn't ask for a late pass, wordlessly signing one for Mercedes so she can get to her next class.

The class is awkward, since it's one she shares with Finn. He doesn't even look at her. What's really weird is how aware she is of the empty seat where Kurt usually sits.

Mr. Schue doesn't make things better. His lesson today is on families, talking about _padre_ and _madre_. It's particularly ill-timed, but she can't expect him to change his lesson plans just because of her personal drama. Quinn keeps her cool, even though she's going to be treated to an afternoon of being called _mama._

When the bell rings, Finn clears out of class even before Mr. Schue announces their dismissal. Quinn stares at the door for a long moment before rising to her feet.

Quinn steps out into the hallway, forcing herself not to brace for a slushie. By now, the rumor mill would have announced her presence on campus, and the jocks will have had time to mobilize. She's not going to let them see her fear. Coach Sylvester has always said predators went after the weak, and showing fear is an invitation to abuse.

The jock who is waiting for her isn't carrying a Big Gulp, though.

"Hey, MILF," Puck says, his hands shoved into his pockets as he offers her a smile.

"What do you want, Puck?" she asks. She doesn't think he's part of the Gleek solidarity that Mercedes was preaching an hour ago.

"What do you think I want?" he says. "Same thing as always. I figure now that you no longer have your V-card, you might want to take a ride on the Puckerman Express before you blow up like a blimp."

"You're really disgusting." She tries to storm past, but he catches her arm and stops her. She stares down at his hand, like it's something revolting, but feels a blush on her face.

"That gay kid didn't have a clue what he was doing with you," he tells her. "You need a man to show you a good time."

"And I suppose you're that man?" she spits back. "Are you the same man who is going to help me find someplace to live, pay for my doctor's bills, and be there for me when I give birth?"

The idea of responsibility sends Puck skittering away. He drops her arm, glaring at her. "I'm a stud. There's too many women in this world for the Puckasaurus to devote himself to just one. I just figured that you might like to have a bit of fun before you end up in single mother city."

Her fingers itch to reach out and slap him. "You are a revolting example of humanity. Go find a cougar if you really want a MILF, because I'm way too good for you," she says, stalking away.

Only to walk into a hail of slushies, both orange and blue raspberry. So much for her perfect exit.

The jocks laugh and tease _mama_, but it's not until she feels someone's hand on her shoulder that she unfreezes enough to move. Tina drags her into the ladies' room, digging into her shoulder bag for shampoo and clean clothing. Wordlessly she helps straighten Quinn out, ignoring the late bell without a word.

Tina's goth clothing looks strange on Quinn, but as she stares at her reflection, Quinn finds it in her to smile. She looks tougher, less like a princess and more like a girl who doesn't care what anyone thinks about her.

"Can you help with my makeup?" she asks, turning to Tina with a smile on her face.

"I d-d-don't th-think my m-m-makeup is right f-for you," Tina says, gesturing to her own heavily made-up face.

"I don't think these clothes look right without your kind of makeup," Quinn replies,her smile turning wicked. She's no longer a good girl, so maybe she should look the part, at least for a little while.

They spend the rest of the period in the bathroom as Tina gives her a spontaneous goth makeover. It's fun, and they giggle together as Tina pants her nails black and adds bright pink shadow to her face. Tina gives her a pair of fingerless gloves to wear, and ties Quinn's hair into a series of deliberately sloppy ponytails all over her scalp.

When they're done, Quinn turns to face the mirror and bursts out laughing It's really, really not her. "I look like Goth-barbie," she says.

"Maybe if you d-dyed your hair?" Tina suggests, tilting her head consideringly.

Quinn shakes her head. Goth isn't her, but it's fun to try out. Now that she's no longer the Head Cheerleader, she needs to find her own image. "It's your look, not mine," she says. "But it's fun to play dress-up."

"D-don't say that to K-k-kurt," Tina says. "He loves g-giving makeovers."

Quinn feels a bit of her good mood fading. She hasn't thought about Kurt, or his proposal. She needs to. "What do you think of him?" she asks Tina suddenly.

"I d-don't really know him that well," Tina replies softly, looking down at her own hands. "H-he's pretty private."

That's a weird thought. "He's very outspoken, though."

"N-n-not really. He may be l-loud, but it's only about things that don't matter to h-him. He doesn't really t-talk much about himself."

Kurt's reputation at school is for being bitchy and very gay, but those are obvious stereotypes. If a person listens to him, Kurt's conversation is shallow – not because he is shallow, but because he keeps his secrets. Quinn frowns, remembering how surprised she'd been to learn his mother was dead. "I guess. But you have to have an opinion?"

"He's sad," Tina says, still speaking in that too-soft voice. "Kurt g-gets put through hell, but he refuses to let it get to h-h-him. B-b-but it still hurts."

Yesterday, she wouldn't have thought of Kurt as "sad," but after hearing him admit his mother was dead, she realizes how much she doesn't know about him. She's been watching him for the past month, and he makes her think of the iceberg theory of writing that her English teacher likes to ramble on about. She might see the surface, but what is underneath is ten times bigger.

It scares her how little she knows him, because she's seriously considering his marriage proposal. She'd yelled at Puck earlier about what she needed in a man. Kurt can be the answer to everything, she knows, if she can get past the whole 'he's gay' thing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

* * *

She goes with Tina to Glee Club, enjoying the stares this time. If they have to be looking at her, she at least will determine _why_. She's taking back a bit of her power, and it feels good. She can't wait to read Jacob's blog, which will no doubt speculate about her mental health and suggest she and Tina are lesbian lovers.

When she walks into the club room, Mercedes is already there. Her eyes go wide at the sight of Quinn, before she breaks out into laughter. Mercedes has a wonderful laugh, and Quinn finds herself grinning back.

"Like my new look?" she asks, playfully spinning around so Mercedes can see the chains on the back of her borrowed skirt.

"It's very punk rock princess, white girl," Mercedes tells her. "I assume your former look meant an unfortunate, wet and cold end?"

"Unfortunately," Quinn says. "Tina was nice enough to help me out."

"She's cool like that," Mercedes agrees giving Tina a thumbs-up. "Nice going."

Tina smiles, but doesn't speak. She doesn't really talk when she didn't have to, Quinn thinks. It is probably due to that stutter.

Now that she is a full-scale loser, there is nothing to stop her from sitting down next to Mercedes. Tina sits to her other side, and once again Quinn feels herself surrounded by friends.

As the other trickle in, each of them pause to stare at Quinn. Artie offers her a high-five, while Mike and Matt grin at her. Santana rolls her eyes, while Brittany asks who the new girl is. Puck is the only one who ignores her, going over to the side of the room to sit by himself. Quinn isn't looking forward to what he's going to do to get even for her earlier smackdown. She's offended his masculine pride, and Puck isn't the type to let something go.

Mercedes and Tina start talking about how Lauren Zises has been named to All-State for wrestling, because really? It's kind of scary knowing there's a girl in school who can bench press Finn without breaking into a sweat.

Quinn listens, amused. The one downside of being a Cheerio had been the lack of the squad's combined brainpower. With the exception of herself and Santana, the rest of the cheerleaders border on clinically braindead. Brittany is considered one of the "smart ones." Tina and Mercedes may be focusing on a subject that would be of interest to the squad, but they make jokes and use words longer than two syllables. Quinn finds the novelty pleasant.

She's distracted from her private drama, until Finn walks into the room – with Rachel on his arm. It has taken less than forty-eight hours for Rachel Berry to sink her claws into Finn. Quinn knew it was coming, but she would have thought it'd take at least a week. It should have, because no one got over Quinn Fabray that quickly.

But the day after Finn beat Kurt to a pulp – and avoided punishment since Kurt refused to admit how he'd been hurt – they're together, holding hands. They're so busy staring into each other's eyes that they don't even notice Quinn, watching them.

The rest of the club falls silent as they watch their leads take seats in the center of the room. Finn wraps his arm around Rachel, who is almost purring with delight.

"You okay?" Mercedes whispers into her ear.

Quinn shrugs, since there's no way she can answer without sounding like a whiny bitch. It's one thing to be a bitch, but she refuses to be whiny.

She manages to make it through the club, but she only lip syncs the words. She doesn't feel much like singing. 

* * *

She decides she's going to spend the rest of the afternoon in her car, listening to the radio as she tries to sort things out. Quinn doesn't know which way she should drive, anyway. Her parents don't want her, and she can't remember if Burt Hummel gave his permission for her to stay. She's going to end up going there since she doesn't have any other option, but things are will be incredibly awkward tonight unless she can give Kurt an answer to his proposal.

But when she gets to her vehicle, there's already someone there. Quinn doesn't notice until she's already in, having been so engrossed in her own thoughts that her surroundings are a blur.

Quinn turns her head, and is scared out of her wits to realize she isn't alone in the vehicle. She blinks at the blond woman, thinking she looks vaguely familiar.

The woman starts talking before Quinn can gather her thoughts.

"How many weeks are you? From the looks of you, I'd say no more than five or six. I assume you haven't told your parents yet – I mean, how could you, after daddy bought you this car so you could drive him to the Chastity Ball. You can't raise this baby, Quinn," the woman says.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Quinn feels very, very confused and a little bit frightened of this stranger.

"I'm just somebody who wants to help."

"I don't need your help. Get the hell out of my car!" Quinn snaps, wondering where she put the can of mace her father made her carry.

"Really? What kind of prenatal vitamins are you taking?" Quinn blinks, not understanding what this lunatic is prattling about. The woman digs into her purse to pull out a bottle of pills, handing it over to Quinn. "Yeah... here. Three times a day, or your baby will be ugly."

"I don't understand. What do you want from me?" Quinn asks. She stares at the bottle in her hands, knowing there's so much she doesn't know about being pregnant, and no one to tell her what is right. Vitamins seem like such a little thing, but it brings home how unprepared she is for pregnancy, much less motherhood.

The woman smiles, and Quinn goes from being befuddled to outright freaked out as Terri Schuester lays out her grand plan. 

* * *

She arrives at Kurt's house about an hour later, feeling absolutely nothing. There's a certain beauty in the sneakiness of Terri's plan, and for one second, Quinn is tempted. Mr. Schuester is a really nice man, and he'd make a good father.

Then she realizes that it would mean this woman (who is prattling on with sweet venom, deliberately trying to undermine Quinn's confidence while acting concerned) would become her child's mother, and the temptation goes away. Anyway, there's no way Kurt is going to give up his child without a fight, which means Terri's plan can't work.

But Quinn still tells Terri she will think about it, instead of telling the woman to go jump off a cliff. The woman is insane. Really. Why a guy like Mr. Schue ended up with her, Quinn will never know. Love must really be blind.

Terri pats her on the shoulder, smiling smugly, before exiting the car. "I'll be in touch," Terri promises.

Quinn really wishes she won't.

Kurt answers the door on her second knock. He takes one look at her wan face and her goth makeover and shuts his eyes. "I should have gone in with you," he says. "I'm sorry."

Quinn shakes her head. "It's not the slushies," she says.

Kurt leads her to the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?"

For a second, she considers keeping quiet about Terri's offer, but she decides she should try being honest with him. Maybe Kurt will think it's a good plan.

She tells Kurt about Terri, and how the woman wants to take the baby and pretend it's hers. Kurt listens without interjecting, but she can see on his face that he's not one bit persuaded by the idea. If anything, he's getting angry. When she finishes, she takes a deep breath, waiting for him to reply.

Kurt is thinking. She's learned over the past couple of days that Kurt likes to think things through when he has a chance. Right now his expression is stony, and he looks a lot like his father.

"There is no way we're giving the child to a woman like her," he says after a minute. "I wouldn't want my child raised by someone who is so lacking human decency that she preys on a pregnant teenage girl to get what she wants."

Quinn exhales, a weight lifted off her chest.

But Kurt isn't done speaking yet. "If we wanted to give the baby up, we would have no problem. White babies with good family backgrounds never have a problem being adopted," Kurt tells her. "If we wanted, we could find a very good family for him to be a part of. We could probably find a family who would go for an open adoption, so we could be part of his life."

Quinn thinks on that. It's tempting, so tempting. She can give birth and then give the responsibility to someone else, but still remain a part of the child's life.

Then she thinks about Kurt's earlier reaction, and realizes it's not going to happen.

"You don't want that," she says.

"If you want to give the child up, I would take full custody. You don't have to be involved."

The idea makes her lips curve. It's not common, but there's some boys who step forward to become single fathers. Kurt has a good role model in Burt, so it shouldn't sound ludicrous. She tries to picture Kurt raising their child on his own, and all of the things that are wrong with that picture.

"No," she says. "Call me old fashioned, but a child should have two parents." She echoes his words from this morning. Two married parents, is the thought that haunts her. Kurt has made the offer, and it's up to her to determine how involved she wants to be with her child.

"If possible," he agrees. "Can you let me know by the end of next week what you want to do? I need to make plans, either way."

She has a suspicion what her answer is going to be already. It sounds insane, but getting married to Kurt may be the best option among a ton of bad options. 

* * *

Burt Hummel comes home at six, and he doesn't seem surprised to find them sitting on the couch, working on their homework in quiet solidarity. Quinn hadn't thought to pick up Kurt's assignments, but they do share a number of classes and it's enough to keep them busy.

Burt takes one look at them, before jerking a thumb toward the kitchen. "Go make dinner," he tells Kurt. "I need to have a talk with the lady."

Kurt opens his mouth to protest, but Burt shakes his head. Kurt's shoulders slump slightly, but he gives Quinn a nod before disappearing through the kitchen, leaving his father and the girl he knocked up alone.

Burt sits down in an armchair, sitting on the edge and leaning toward Quinn. Quinn knows this isn't a conversation she wants to be part of, but Burt will not be denied.

She licks her suddenly dry lips. "Sir?"

"I'm guessing Kurt spoke to you this morning, about getting hitched and all," he said. "Never thought my boy would want a shotgun wedding."

"I haven't said yes," she tells him. Yet.

"Maybe you've got more common sense than I figured you for," Burt replies. He goes quiet for a second, looking for words. "I'm not thrilled with the idea."

"Of us getting married?"

"Of any of this mess. Even if you don't say yes, he's told me you're staying here until the baby is born." Burt ran a hand over his chin. "I don't think much of your family, kicking you out and all, but I'm not sure you being around is a good idea."

"I'm already pregnant. It's not like he can knock me up again."

She can see the man's fists twitch, and she can tell he wants to hit her. But he's a gentleman, in a blue-collared sort of way, and he'd never hit a girl. There's honor among rednecks, a peculiar code that treats women as fragile and men as their protectors.

"That's the thing. I don't get how Kurt ended up getting you..." he trailed off, gesturing. "He came out to me three weeks ago, not that he really need to. I've known he was queer since he was a toddler. Then a week ago he tells me he has a kid on the way, and what am I supposed to think?"

She hangs her head, unable to speak.

"So he tells me about how you were both really drunk and you climbed on top of him, and well... not like he wanted to. Most people would think that's some cock and bull story, but I know Kurt, and I believe him. He wouldn't want to have sex with a girl. I call that rape. He didn't want to sleep with you."

She feels lightheaded. "I didn't – I mean, a girl can't rape a boy."

"Really? I thought so, too, but rape is when someone says no and another person doesn't listen. I read up on it when I realized Kurt wasn't gonna want a regular relationship. Gay guys get raped, but it's weird that it's a girl doing the raping."

Quinn wants to throw up. She hadn't thought of it like that. She stares at this man, wondering how it's possible that he's making her feel even worse than he did before.

"I just want to let you know where I stand on this. I don't hate you, but I don't trust you, neither. Kurt is my son, and I want what's best for him. He tells me marrying you is the best thing he can do in this situation, and I'm gonna trust him to make that decision."

His words don't do much to sooth the emotional turmoil he's just stirred up in her. "I didn't mean to hurt him."

"Lot of people do things they don't mean to," Burt tells her. "That don't make it right."

She wonders if Burt wants an apology. All Quinn wants to do is find somewhere to curl up and go to sleep. She doesn't want to think about what he's telling her, because she's horrified at the idea. Rape is such an ugly, ugly word.

"I..." She can't figure out what to say to make things better. Maybe there's nothing.

Burt gives her a slight smile, shaking his head. "When that kid of yours is born, you'll understand why I'm so angry with you. When you've got a kid, the kid always, always comes first, and what you want for you isn't as important."

Quinn tries to imagine not thinking about her own well being as being her primary concern. She's a teenager, and she's supposed to be selfish. "I guess," she says, unable to think of anything else to say.

"You know Kurt's real smart. He's smarter than me, and he tells me he's gonna take care of you and my grandkid, so I believe him. It's not gonna be easy, but I want to help you both out as best I can. All I ask is you not take advantage of him again."

"I'll do my best," she whispers.

_Burt Hummel is terrifying,_ she thinks as he calls Kurt back into the room. _If Kurt is even half the father Burt is, then our child is going to be very, very lucky._

Strange how she's thinking of it as "ours." 

* * *

"Do you think I raped you?" she asks later that night. Kurt is sitting at his vanity, working on his moisturizing routine, and she's curled up on the bed, wearing the sweat clothes she plans to sleep in. The bed is big enough for them to share, and she's already told Kurt that is what they're going to do. It's going to be a long seven months, and she isn't kicking him out of his own room every night. They're going to have to get used to being around each other.

He pauses for a long moment, looking at her in the mirror. "I don't know."

It's not the immediate denial she'd been hoping for. Quinn's hands clench.

"It's a gray area, isn't it? Neither of us were in control of ourselves, so I don't _know._ I know I never would have agreed to sleep with you, but you wouldn't have wanted to do it if you hadn't been trashed. This isn't some after school special where the answer is obvious. We both fucked up."

"Do you blame me?"

"No more than I blame myself, princess," he tells her, before picking up a moist towelette and removing the makeup he'd put on to disguise the black eyes Finn had given him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

* * *

It's really weird to sleep next to someone. She's gone to slumber parties before, but it's entirely different sharing a bed with a boy.

To his credit, Kurt is a tight sleeper, curling up on his side and falling asleep easily. He doesn't move or shift, but even though they're more than a foot apart, she can feel the heat of his body. She listens to the sound of his breathing, and feels glad he's here. She's had a really long day, and she's tired, but she sends up a thankful prayer to God for Kurt. She's not entirely alone, and she knows now that Kurt is going to stick with her, even if he has to railroad his father into cooperating.

She doesn't know when she falls asleep. 

* * *

Quinn wakes up to the sounds of someone rummaging around the room. Squinting at the alarm clock on the night table, she notes that it's barely six in the morning. She sits up slowly as she remembers where she is, and who the person making the noise has to be. He's standing by the closet, dressed in boxers and a tee-shirt, considering its contents with a thoughtful look on his face.

"What are you doing?" she asks, struggling to gain her bearings. It always takes her a while to wake up, especially without coffee.

"Getting ready for the school day," he tells her. "I'd like to go in a little early to talk to Mr. Schue about his wife."

It takes Quinn a second to figure out why. Her conversation with Burt had made her earlier traumatic encounter with Terri slip her mind. Again, waking up bright and perky was not her thing. She likes lying in bed and spending several minutes gathering herself before rising to greet the day.

"Is that really necessary?"

"I think it is," he tells her. "You can go back to sleep, if you want."

There's no way she's going to be able to fall back asleep. "I'm up, I'm up," she says grumpily. "School doesn't start for three hours, though."

"I always do a lot in the mornings," he tells her.

She stares at him with horror as she realizes a truly frightening fact. "You're a morning person, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged," he says, smiling at her before turning back to his wardrobe.

Quinn groans melodramatically, letting her head fall back against the pillows. For a second, she considers rolling over and trying to sleep, but decides it's not worth it. When Quinn wakes, she is up for the day. She sits upright, brushing her hand over her eyes in an attempt to get rid of the crud that accumulated there while she slept. She notices her nails are still black from yesterday's goth makeover.

She's going to have to figure out something to wear. Life had been much easier when she'd been a Cheerio, since it'd taken her twenty minutes to shower, do her hair and makeup, and get dressed in her uniform. There had been a simplicity in having a regimen like that. Now she needs to figure out what to wear, and fight Kurt for the bathroom.

To her surprise, Kurt is efficient at choosing an outfit. She watches as he pulls out a pair of black skinny jeans and a black turtle neck, before pulling out a fabulous black coat with golden buttons. He sets them down before going over to his dresser and pulling out sweatpants. "I'm going for a run. I usually do a couple miles in the morning. You're welcome to come with me."

"Come with you?"

"Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you shouldn't get exercise," he says.

She doesn't think she can walk straight, much less run. "Maybe next time," she tells him.

He rolls his eyes, before heading upstairs.

Quinn takes a long breath before forcing herself out of bed. She needs to get her clothes from the car, and then a hot shower sounds like a bliss.

She steps out of the bathroom just as Kurt is climbing back down the stairs. She's dressed in a yellow sweater dress with faux pearl accents around the neck, since November is well underway and the Ohio winter is starting to come in. Kurt pauses, and he lifts an eyebrow, but he doesn't say anything. He grabs the outfit he picked out earlier and heads into the bathroom.

She glances down, wondering what was wrong with her clothing. She's sure Kurt can give her chapter and verse, but she doesn't feel comfortable asking. She's already feeling low enough as it is.

Kurt takes about thirty minutes to get ready, all told. She flips through a fashion magazine he has on his coffee table while waiting, not wanting to go upstairs alone. She's not ready for another heart to heart to heart with Burt.

Then they head upstairs together for breakfast. Kurt starts showing her around the kitchen, making sure she can find the utensils and dishes, and asks if there's any foods she'd like him to get the next time he goes grocery shopping.

"You do the grocery shopping?" she asks. She has a hard time imagining him pushing a cart around in Rays.

"I've been doing it since I was thirteen and decided I couldn't live on frozen food anymore. My dad tried, but he never got the hang of proper nutrition."

"I'll go with you next time," she says. She's never actually been grocery shopping on her own. Occasionally she would stop by a convenience store to get a Sue Sylvester approved drink, but she never had shopped for necessities.

"Suit yourself."

Their conversation dies a slow and painful death as they eat breakfast. Quinn's feeling queasy, and sticks to dry toast, hoping she can keep it down. Kurt eats half a grapefruit and toast slathered with peanut butter, thoughtlessly licking his fingers clean. It seems out of character for what she knows of him.

They finish with a good half an hour before school. "Do you want to ride in with me?"

She hesitates before answering. Having her own car means having a readily available escape route, but she doesn't know how she's going to keep gas in it. Her parents have probably canceled her credit card already. It's best to wait until she can figure out what she's going to do. "Sure."

The Navigator's stereo pumps out a good, strong beat. The music from Kurt's Ipod is wordless and not something Quinn's listened to before. A female singer lets out meaningless garble, but it's still beautiful. Shutting her eyes, she allows herself to let the music roll over her.

Kurt drives well for a teenage guy. He's relaxed but alert, doesn't fumble around when he hits the turn signal, and has a light touch with both the brakes and gas pedal. He's familiar with the vehicle, and doesn't have a lot of the fear new drivers are prone to. Maybe he drives a bit on the fast side, but he's in control of the vehicle so it doesn't freak her out like riding with Finn used to.

"Do you still plan on talking to Mr. Schue?" she asks.

He nods, not taking his eyes off the road. "He always comes in early on Glee days, so he can get his paperwork done. We can catch him before classes."

"_We?_" She'd thought she'd go hide in the library while waiting for classes to start.

"It concerns both of us, doesn't it? I thought you'd want to be involved."

Quinn blinks, realizing that he is right. Her father has always handled things for her mother, and she unknowingly gravitated toward following her mother's example. Kurt's assumption that she wants to be there is kind of a shock; he is a better feminist than she is.

"Thanks," she says, although she's not looking forward to seeing Mr. Schue. He's her favorite teacher, now that Coach Sylvester has disowned her. It's weird to think of him married to such a creepy woman, because she'd always thought of him as single since her flirts a lot with Ms. Pillsbury. Teachers aren't supposed to have lives outside of school.

He turns the car off after pulling into the parking lot, sitting in his seat for a long moment. "I wanted to ask you to do something," he says. "I don't think you're going to like it, but please listen?"

Kurt really hasn't asked anything of her (except marriage, but that was more of an offer than a request for himself). "What do you want?"

"We're going to have to move as a unit at school," he says. "People love drama, and I don't want to make things worse."

"You mean pretend that I like you?"

"No. Yes," he corrects. "Not like boyfriend and girlfriend, but at least friends. If you get angry at me, don't come up and start screaming or telling me what to do. Especially not in the hallways or anywhere people can see us," he says.

Quinn used to corner Finn in the hallway, since she'd been too popular to worry about what the losers saw. Everyone had known she was the one in charge, which had been the most important thing. If she tries to pull the same thing on Kurt...

Oh, dear God.

"So you want me to play the good little woman?" she asks sweetly.

"No. I want us to act like responsible adults and keep our fighting private. We're not going to give them more to make fun of us about," he says.

She thinks of the slushies from yesterday, and the way Jacob had tried to corner her. She thinks of all the whispers and looks. She should have understood that he wasn't asking out of pride, but the desire to survive. Kurt knows more about how to navigate the bottom rung of the school's social ladder than she does.

"Fine," she says, unsnapping her seat belt. "Are you ready to go?" 

* * *

Kurt moves quickly across the parking lot, a fast pace that might make her run if he was taller. She has to step hastily, but at least they look like they're in a hurry rather than trying to avoid the bullies.

"Yo, Hummel! You missed our little party yesterday," Karofsky calls jeeringly. He's standing close to the dumpster, and Quinn knows Kurt's plans for talking to Mr. Schue are about to get derailed.

Only they don't.

"Not today, Karofsky," Kurt says without looking at the pack of idiots. The tone of his voice almost stops Quinn dead in her tracks. Kurt's always been able to cut with a few well-chosen words, but his simple denial has somehow managed to threaten painful dismemberment.

The jocks pull back, stunned, but let them pass without interference.

Quinn doesn't blame them. 

* * *

Kurt makes a beeline straight for Mr. Schue's classroom, glaring at the hall monitor who is supposed to check for a morning pass. It's stupid, but one of the school rules says that students can't bother their teachers prior to first bell without previous permission. Like the jocks, the monitor lets them by without objecting.

Kurt taps on the door three times, then bursts in before anyone says anything. Quinn follows in his wake, knowing that Kurt isn't going to stop until he's torn Mr. Schue a new one.

Mr. Schue starts to rise to his feet, before his expression softens. He sits back down, a soft smile on his face. "Hey, guys. What do you need?"

Quinn is starting to feel really bad about the whole situation. Whatever Terri had done yesterday, it was unlikely her husband had known. Mr. Schue has always been a really nice guy.

Kurt doesn't seem to notice. He stalks over, coming to a stop three feet from Will's chair, and crosses his arms over his chest. "We need to talk about your wife," Kurt tells him.

"Terri?" he asks, sounding a bit befuddled, before he sighs. "What did she do this time?"

"She tried to manipulate a pregnant teenage girl," Kurt says.

"What?"

Mr. Schue looks genuinely confused, and Quinn's stomach sinks even more. She shifts on her feet, feeling useless and embarrassed.

"Your wife cornered Quinn in her car – hello trespassing charge – and tried to convince her that she couldn't take care of _our_ child. As soon as she played that head trip, she offered to take our baby," Kurt says tightly. "Give him the kind of life he deserves, instead of being raised by a teenage mother who will never amount to anything."

Mr. Schue looks horrible, his face turning a shade of gray that shouldn't exist in nature. "What are you talking about?"

Kurt's usual perceptiveness seems to be on vacation, because he blazes on, "I'm talking about baby stealing! You can tell your wife she can shove her offer where the sun won't shine, because I'm not signing away my paternal rights." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "I really liked you, Mr. Schue, but if I ever find out you were involved, I will make sure you get fired."

Their teacher isn't paying attention to what Kurt is saying anymore, instead staring blankly at his hands. "I don't get it. Why would she... she's already preg-" and Will's voice breaks off.

Then he leans over and throws up into the trash can.

The smell of vomit turns her own stomach, and Quinn has to leave the room, racing to the nearest restroom so she can throw up, too. She doesn't think she can blame this on morning sickness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

* * *

She sits on the floor of the stall well into first period. She doesn't know exactly what she'd seen, but watching Kurt shred Mr. Schue into little pieces made her feel horrible. She's not sure if Kurt did it for just the baby, or for her sake as well. She doesn't know which would be worse.

Quinn used to talk about destroying people when she'd been a Cheerio, but nothing she'd ever done even approached the damage Kurt has just inflicted on a good man. She doesn't want to admit it, but watching made her afraid of Kurt.

Kurt's always been a punchline to a school joke, but now she recognizes he's dangerous in a way few teenage boys are. He's not going to physically hurt her, but the damage words can inflict may be worse in the long run. If – when, because they are just too different to always agree – they fight, Kurt will go for the jugular. And she's weak right now, since her self esteem has been crushed.

She hears the sound of the door opening, and the click of high heels on the floor. She's not really paying attention. She startles when someone asks, "Quinn? Can I talk to you? How about we go to my office? It's really not hygienic to sit on the bathroom floor."

"Fine," Quinn says, pulling herself to her feet and opening the door. Without prompting from the guidance counselor, she goes to the sink to wash her hands up to the elbows.

She follows Ms. Pillsbury back to her office, stopping at the water fountain for a long drink to try to wash the taste of bile out of her mouth. Ms. Pillsbury dithers behind her, muttering about how unsafe public drinking fountains are, but Quinn tunes her out.

The guidance counselor's office is the cleanest place in school. It's well known Ms. Pillsbury has a nearly incapacitating fear of germs, along with OCD tendencies. Quinn's never been in this office before. Coach Sylvester has always handled the Cheerios' guidance needs (which consisted of creating the most convenient schedules for emergency cheerleading practices).

Ms Pillsbury circles the desk, absentmindedly reaching into her desk drawer to pull out a large bottle of Purell. "I understand things have been difficult for you lately," the counselor says, flipping the lid and applying it vigorously to hands, and then moving on to rub it all over the skin her outfit exposes, with the exception of her face.

"I wondered when you were going to get around to passing pamphlets out to me," Quinn replies bitterly.

"Pamphlets can be very useful at summarizing information," Ms. Pillsbury says. "And yes, I have a stack ready for you."

"Oh? There's a pamphlet on what to do when you find yourself pregnant with a gay boy's child?"

Ms. Pillsbury doesn't even flinch. "The pamphlets are a bit more general than that. We can talk about the specifics of your situation."

"Fine. _Talk_ to me."

"I'm not going to pretend this is an easy situation for you, Quinn. I want you to know that I'm willing to listen, and if you want, I can provide an unbiased opinion. I'm here to help you."

"Really? Then tell me, oh-unbiased-adult, what I should do about watching the father of my child rip Mr. Schue into little tiny pieces?"

It's really unfair of her to go there, since Ms. Pillsbury's infatuation with Mr. Schue is one of the school's most open secrets.

"Kurt did what to Will?" Ms. Pillsbury shakes her head, deciding to rephrase the question. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

The words pour out of her, full of anger and self-loathing. She tells Ms. Pillsbury about Terri Schuester, and what had happened this morning. Ms. Pillsbury, she notices, looks a bit sick by the time Quinn finishes.

"Oh. Oh, dear."

"Is that all you have to say?"

Ms. Pillsbury takes a deep breath before speaking calmly. "I know you're upset, but is lashing out at me any different than the way Kurt lashed out at Mr. Schuester this morning?"

Quinn hisses as she realizes that's exactly what she's doing. She doesn't like to apologize, but she owes one to Ms. Pillsbury. "I'm sorry."

Ms. Pillsbury gives a choppy nod. "It's natural for you to be angry. This must seem very unfair to you."

For a second, Quinn is tempted to talk about how unfair it is, but then she remembers who she is talking to. Ms. Pillsbury is nice enough, but she is also judgmental without meaning to be. She will try to convince Quinn that her trials are part of accepting responsibility for her actions, and not offer anything concrete. Quinn doesn't need someone else trying to tell her what she should be doing.

"It is, but I'll deal with it. Can I have a late pass?"

Ms. Pillsbury fills one out and hands it over. "If you need to talk, my door is always open."

Quinn is not going to take that offer up. The last thing she needs is to go from being a loser to being a loser who hangs out with the guidance counselor.

* * *

Rachel tracks her down at lunchtime, declaring loudly that they need to "talk things out."

After this morning, the last thing Quinn wants is a lecture. "Look, Katie Holmes, I don't need to listen to you talk about how you're better for Finn than I am. I don't want to have a bonding session over how difficult getting slushied is on your wardrobe, and I especially don't want a lecture about how this suffering is going to make me stronger in the end."

Rachel's mouth hangs opened for a second, and then she straightens. She's still a midget. "I want you to know that despite your questionable life choices, I will be your friend. Despite our previous antipathy over Finn, I think we can help each other."

"The last thing I want is to be friends with the girl who is dating my ex-boyfriend," Quinn tells her. It's the first time she's called Finn her ex. "Especially since we never officially broke it off."

Less than three days ago, Finn had thought he was going to be the father of her child. He had promised to take care of her and the baby, telling her things were going to be okay. It seems like a lifetime ago.

"You cheated on him!" Rachel declared, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Quinn wasn't going to let her get away with acting holier than thou. "He cheated on me first," she replies. "Congratulations. You've officially succeeded in stealing my boyfriend, and helping to ruin my life. Do you know why Kurt and I got drunk that night?"

Rachel shakes her head, her eyes wide but her mouth thankfully closed.

"Because Finn was all over you. Kurt has a crush on him, and he is – was – my boyfriend. We had a right to be upset. I don't think I'm the only tramp taking part in this conversation," Quinn says, her arms crossing over her chest. Right now, hurting Rachel sounds like the best idea ever.

Rachel starts backing away, her eyes wide. "It's not my fault I'm a better match for Finn!" she protests.

"Keep telling yourself that, Angelina," Quinn says, spinning around before she loses the feeling of _victory._ She's a horrible person, but getting the better of Rachel restores a bit of her faith in the world.

* * *

Quinn isn't surprised to see a substitute in Spanish. Glee Club is obviously canceled for the day.

She and Kurt are both honors students, and share a lot of the same classes. Luckily they've always sat in different parts of the room – Quinn likes the second row from the front, while Kurt gravitates to the side of the classroom, toward the back but not in the last rows with the jocks. She's been able to ignore him so far today. He'd scared her this morning with the viciousness he'd attacked Mr. Schue with.

But considering her exchange with Rachel, she can't blame him anymore. At heart, they may have one thing in common: no mercy for people who have wronged them.

She arrives after he does, and goes to sit down beside him. The other students point and nudge each other, but she doesn't care. She places her books on the desk with more force than she should, startling Kurt into looking at her.

He mouths "later" and she remembers the conversation they had in the car. He thinks she's ready to pick a fight with him. She shakes her head, smiling slightly to indicate it's not that. Kurt raises an eyebrow in reply.

There's no way she's going to explain what it is, since she doesn't know.

* * *

She meets Kurt outside of their final class of the day, since he's her ride. She's not sure if she's glad the weekend is here, because the only place she has to go is with him. She doesn't know how they're going to spend their time.

"Ready?" he asks.

She nods, holding tightly to her shoulder bag. She has some homework, but it's not going to keep her busy for long. This has the potential to be a very awkward weekend.

As they walk through the hallways, a couple of people stare at them, and one of the cheerleaders jeers at her for dropping her standards. Kurt's jaw tightens, but he doesn't retort.

His car is always a surprise, since she still can't reconcile the vehicle with Kurt. It's not like Kurt isn't the type to want to drive something showy, but it's not the right kind of showy. Meeting Burt has explained a little bit of the disconnect, but if it's not right in front of her eyes, she forgets. Thankfully the ride is spacious, since she may need it as she starts to expand.

Kurt takes a different turn out of the parking lot, and she realizes they're not heading back to the Hummel residence.

"Where are we going?" she asks. She hadn't really wanted to go there immediately, but she doesn't like his presumption.

"Shopping."

She blinks. "Why?"

"Because you need to expand your wardrobe now that you've weeded out the tacky uniforms. And because I find shopping to be invigorating."

Quinn can't help but think of Tina's comment warning her that Kurt would love making her over. "Am I your latest makeover project?"

"Can you think of anyone more in need of a boost to her self esteem through judicious use of fashion?"

"I'm not your life size Barbie doll."

"No. You're much too mean to be Barbie."

She's tempted to refuse to play along with his whims, but she does need new clothes. "You're paying."

"Naturally."

"And I get final veto over everything."

"As long as you at least try everything on, and show me how they look."

That could be really creepy, coming from any other guy. But she knows Kurt doesn't want to view her in a sexual way – he might even be traumatized at the idea. "We'll see."

He doesn't take his eyes off the road as he turns onto Elida Road. "I'm not going to choose anything you find humiliating or degrading. You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen," he tells her. He speaks in a matter-of-fact way, with no intent to flatter. "I want to find looks that enhance that."

She flushes, dropping her eyes to her hands. She knows she's pretty, but Kurt's sincerity makes her feel shy. "Is this part of taking care of me?"

"It's part of having fun," he says. "I don't have an ulterior motive."

"Why do you like fashion so much, anyway?"

He's silent for a moment, and she wonders if he is going to answer. "You know that feeling you get when you put on an awesome outfit in the morning, like you can take on the world? I like that. When you pick the right outfit, it can make you be who you want to be while you wear it."

She really wonders who he wants to be. She remembers the corset. "Do you want to be a girl?" she asks.

Kurt's hands tighten on the wheels. "I'm a guy," he tells her, and his voice is deeper than usual. "I know everyone may think I'm trans, but I'm quite happy being male."

"Can you blame me for asking? You dress kind of like a girl."

"I dress like someone who cares about how they look, unlike most of the people in this town," he says sharply. "Just because I choose to explore possibilities with my wardrobe and am gay doesn't mean I am not male. Gender identity and sexual identity are two entirely different things."

Quinn winces. She shouldn't have said it like that. "Oh."

He sighs as he turns into the mall. "We can talk about it some other time. I don't mean to be snapping at you, but I just want to relax and have fun, not talk about deep, personal things. I think we've done enough of that lately."

"Agreed."

It takes them a couple of minutes to find the parking space. It's the first Friday in November, and the Christmas sales are starting. Kurt ends up taking a space in the lot behind Sears, way in the back.

Quinn, unlike a lot of teenage girls, doesn't have a ton of experience clothes shopping. She's never had time, since Sue Sylvester had ruled her life and wardrobe with an iron fist for the past three years. Kurt, however, knows exactly where to go, and she follows his lead.

To her surprise, Kurt looks in a variety of stores, picking out different pieces for her. "We're not going to go wild, but I think a couple of new outfits are in order. Have you ever thought about plaid?"

Quinn shakes her head. "I usually wear solids," she tells him.

"Maybe it's time to expand your horizon," he replies, leading her into a Forever 21.

Three hours later, she is tired but thoroughly distracted. Kurt carries two bags with items from six different stores inside. He rings all the purchases up on his charge card, and Quinn doesn't fight him. She remembers that bank statement he'd shown her, and knows that buying her a couple things isn't going to impact it greatly. She might feel ashamed of being a charity case, but that's the least of her concerns right now. She wants to be spoiled a little bit, because she deserves it after the week she's had.

Most of the items are basics, with the one big purchase being a Charlotte Russe button-down jean dress she hadn't wanted to try on. Kurt had reminded her of her promise to try anything. To her surprise, the dress is surprisingly flattering, and Kurt assures her it can be played up with a variety of different accessories. He had dragged her through a couple of stores (including Hot Topic, which she'd always sworn she would never enter) to find said accessories, which are also in the bag.

Kurt is nothing but pleasant as he talks color and cuts, and Quinn finds herself relaxing. She still can't get the image of him attacking Mr. Schue out of her head, but she's starting to see that Kurt is essentially a nice boy unless someone pisses him off.

"Are we almost done?" she asks. Her feet are sore.

"Have you had enough?" he replied, cocking an eyebrow at her challengingly.

He's challenging her, but she's not going to rise to the bait. "Just about," she replies. Kurt can probably shop until the mall closes without flagging.

"You did better than most people," he tells her. "Mercedes is the only one who can keep up with me. Tina usually cries for mercy after two hours, and my dad refuses to go."

It's kind of sad, she thinks suddenly, realizing that Kurt doesn't have any other friends to go shopping with. Kurt's only male friend is Artie, and she can't picture them spending time in the mall together, since Kurt's made his opinions of Artie's clothing vehemently clear. He must have been very lonely until the Glee Club had formed.

They walk by a Maternity store on the way out of the mall. Quinn turns her head away, not wanting to look yet. She's got a couple of months before she starts showing, and she's going to remain in denial about the inevitable loss of her waist for as long as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

Notes: My apologies for the long wait - real life ate me. I wanted to note that while some details revealed in season two may be hinted at, this fic is now firmly AU when it comes to canon so not everything is going to jive perfectly.

* * *

She still feels weird that night when she slides into bed beside Kurt. He's already asleep – the price for being a morning person – so there's no kind of awkward exchange as she settles herself in. Despite her fatigue, her mind is too busy to shut down immediately.

She has options. Quinn thinks about the trust fund Kurt told her about yesterday. She knows that in conservative Ohio, she can make a good case for keeping the baby and allowing Kurt the occasional visit in return for regular checks.

But she's been glad for his presence. She doesn't want to think about how alone she will be if she turns on him. For her entire life, Quinn has been surrounded by people who support her. While she claims to be a highly independent person, she's really not.

There's also the option of having the baby and giving it to Kurt. Kurt has Burt, and she's seen enough of their dynamic to know that Burt will be able to handle it, and Kurt will benefit from his loving father's care. But Mrs. Schue's offer yesterday had triggered some nascent maternal instinct. Quinn isn't sure, but she's starting to think she wants to raise the child as her own. It's only a shade of the fierceness Kurt has been displaying, but it's there.

The third option is to raise the child with Kurt. She has almost three more years of high school to go before graduating, and she might have to live with the Hummels until then. She's not going to drop out, so why not take advantage of their kindness and have the best of both worlds? She can have her baby and decide if she likes being a mother. If she doesn't, she can always walk away later. There's no need to rush, right?

Quinn smiles as she decides that's what she's going to do. She'll think about getting married to Kurt later, but right now, she knows she's going to keep both him and her child for a while. 

* * *

She vaguely remembers Kurt climbing out of bed early in the morning, but she manages to roll over and falls back asleep until it's after eight. He's not in the room, and she feels weird by herself.

The whole weekend is like that. Quinn finishes her homework that morning, knowing that a week ago, she would have been at a full day cheerleading practice. Kurt is in and out of his house, doing chores and working on his laptop. She doesn't ask what he's doing, and he doesn't tell her.

She does feel a bit hurt when he enters that afternoon carrying bags from Rays. She'd thought he was going to take her grocery shopping with him. Maybe he'd forgotten. She decides not to make an issue of it, since grocery shopping was such a routine thing and there will be other chances to go. She'll remind him at some point.

By six that evening, she's bored out of her skull. Television is boring, and she's already poked around on the internet. Quinn isn't used to having nothing to do, and she hates it.

Kurt walks into the room dressed in that blue Marc Jacobs jacket he's so fond of. "I've got to go meet Mercedes," he tells her. "I should be back around midnight."

Quinn feels her mouth drop a little bit as Kurt whisks away in a hurry. She doesn't have a chance to think before she hears the outside door shut.

She would have liked to have gone with him. Mercedes has been kind to her the last couple of days, and it would be nice to see her. But she knows Mercedes is Kurt's BFF, not hers. She isn't going to sit around and sulk and pout just because he's spending time with his friends. He's not her real boyfriend, and she knows he's not cheating on her, so she's not going to let herself care.

Maybe there's a good Lifetime original movie on. 

* * *

She's sulking when Burt Hummel finally arrives home. The man works a six day week, Kurt told her yesterday, so he's not around a lot.

Quinn is slumped on his recliner when he walks in, a half-full bowl of popcorn (drenched in real butter, ohhhh yes) in her lap. Lifetime has failed her, but she's discovered Kurt's Buffy DVDs, and is halfway through season one. She can really relate to Buffy, because Buffy is blonde and kickass, but stuck in a situation which just plain sucks.

Burt pauses in the doorway, shifting on his feet for a second. "Kurt around?"

"He's out with Mercedes," she says, grabbing another handful of popcorn.

"I see." The man looked at the screen. "This is the one about the redhead having the computer in love with her, right?"

She blinks, broadsided by his knowledge. "You're a fan?"

"Kurt went through a Buffy phase about five years back. I think I've seen all of these at least twice," he says. Instead of pointing out that she's in his usual chair, he sits down on the couch and studies the screen. "I think it was one of his better phases."

"Oh?" Quinn's not all that interested since she's pissed off at Kurt, but she is really tired of watching TV. She'll take any conversation she can get.

"When he was a kid, he loved the Barney, which I guess is normal enough, but the stupid song would get stuck in my head."

"My parents wouldn't let me watch Barney. They thought..." She cuts off, deciding that explaining _why_ her parents had put the purple dinosaur on the ban list might not be a good idea.

"He was gay? I heard that one, too," Burt says. "Just like the Teletubbbies, which he never really picked up on, thank goodness since the dinosaur was more than enough to annoy the heck out of me. But no one's gonna convince me that letting Kurt watch Barney is why he is the way he is."

Quinn takes a sip of her soda (diet, since the real stuff tastes funny to her) as an excuse to think over what the right reply is. "You don't think he can be... cured?" she asks cautiously.

Burt's fingers tense against the armrest for a second. "Kurt told me you were religious."

"I am."

"My wife was religious, too. She used to pray for Kurt to be healed, since we knew he was gonna be gay. You can just tell with some kids, and Kurt..." He pauses, shaking his head. "Katie figured out eventually that there's nothing wrong with Kurt. Kurt is himself, and I can't believe a loving God would want to change him for anything."

She squirms a bit in her chair. She's never quite been able to figure out why God lets bad things happen, but knows there has to be a reason. Her father had always been very vocal in his loathing of homosexuality, declaring it a mortal sin. Quinn hadn't really thought about it, just accepted that he'd been right and that people like Kurt were deviants who needed to find the right way or else they'd go straight to hell.

There had been a lot she hadn't thought about, but now she wonders if her father is wrong about that, too. Kurt may be gay enough to be his own pride parade, but he's a good person. And he's smart, too smart to _choose_ to be gay if he had any other choice.

Burt sighs, pulling his hat off his head and putting it on his knee. "I know you were raised differently, but I believe God wants Kurt to be the way he is. It's the only thing that makes sense to me."

"I wasn't taught to believe that," she says quietly. She knows Burt is fiercely defensive of Kurt, and doesn't know if this conversation should be taking place. Keeping her mouth shut might be wiser.

"Doesn't mean you were taught right," he said, holding up a hand. "I'm not knocking your beliefs, but there's religion and then there's faith. They're two completely different things."

In the past, she would have jumped down anyone's throat for saying that. There was One True Way, and everyone else was wrong. But now she knows her church might not be right, since her father has cast her out. She wants desperately to reconcile her beliefs with what has happened to her, because she doesn't want to go to hell.

"What do you mean?"

"Religion is the way man tries to understand God – it's the rules that a church tells you to follow. But faith is something more," Burt tells her. "I don't pretend to be a smart man, but it seems pretty clear to me that you can't put God into a box. God is much more than any human can understand. It seems ridiculous that one religion can be right, and everyone else is just plain wrong."

She stares at him for a long moment, unable to believe that Burt is telling her this. He's not a sophisticated man, not like Quinn's father, but he's thoughtful and surprisingly deep. Looking at him, she realizes how much she'd assumed about him based upon appearances.

And if the last weeks have taught her anything, it's that assumptions suck. Kurt has surprised her at every turn, so she shouldn't expect less from his father.

"I like the idea of having answers," she says.

"Most people do. The world's too complicated for things to be simple." He turns to squint at the television, which is just getting into the climatic fight scene. "But I think part of living is trying to come to our own answers. Religion can provide guidance, but we need to find our own truth."

"Maybe." And then because she feels awkward and uncomfortable, she asks, "Do you want to watch something else?"

"This is fine," he says, "though I wouldn't say no if you wanted to share some popcorn."

Quinn hands over the bowl with a shaky smile and turns her head back to the screen, trying to get lost in the show. 

* * *

She wakes up around four in the morning, needing to use the bathroom.

Quinn had fallen asleep on the sofa, and she awakes to the feeling of a blanket on top of her. She wonders if it was Burt or Kurt who put it there. She pushes it off and stumbles to the bathroom to do her business. The clock reads 4:05 in neon green numerals when she finishes, and she knows she wants to go back to sleep. The question is where.

She can go down to Kurt's room and crawl into bed with him, but she's still feeling alienated. She can go back onto the sofa, but that's not going to be as comfortable. Her neck already has a bit of a crick in it.

She weighs her choices carefully before opening the door to the basement. She and Kurt are going to be stuck together for a while, and she's not going to let his moodiness scare her off.

She feels her way down the stairs, using the railing to guide her. The light from the basement window is scant, but it's enough for her to find her way. Kurt is sleeping in the center of the bed, and she squints as she realizes he's not wearing a shirt. For a second, she considers turning around, but then she sets her chin and decides she's not going to back down. She's tired and cranky, and even if Kurt is stark naked, she's getting into that bed.

She lifts up the blanket, and thankfully catches the sight of dark sweatpants he's wearing. She wasn't _looking_, she thinks, wondering if she's blushing.

The mattress shifts under her weight as she sits on the edge. Kurt is right in the middle, and although he is on his side with his hands drawn tight to his chest, the only way she's going to fit in bed is to either plaster herself against him, or to somehow move him more to the other side. She decides on the latter, since she would feel very weird cuddling with him.

Quinn touches his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his soft skin under her fingers. She pushes him slightly, hoping he will roll over and fix her problem.

She's not expecting him to sit upright, groggily pushing her hand away forcefully. "Dun touch me," he slurs, still not entirely awake.

"Sorry," she replies, thinking it would have been better to have kept to the sofa. "I just wanted you to move over."

She can't make out much of his expression in the room's darkness, but she can see the way his shoulders start to relax. "Isn't a good idea to wake me up," he says, sliding over even as he complains.

Quinn swings her feet up onto the bed, settling herself in for the rest of the night. She hears him lay back down, and shuts her eyes. The bed shifts a couple times as he tries to get comfortable, but she takes comfort in the residual warmth of the sheets and is soon asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby  
**

_by aishuu_

* * *

Sunday sucks just as much as Saturday, especially since she doesn't dare go to her old church. She doesn't want the congregation to look down on her. She's spent most of her life around them, and she knows the little old ladies on the altar guild can be positively venomous with their disapproval. She still has memories about the time when she'd worn jeans to church as a thirteen year old.

It makes her feel off balance. Church has always rejuvenated her, but she doesn't have that. She does spend an hour praying in the backyard, but it's not the same.

She wonders if Burt Hummel might be right about God. She's never really let herself think on it before, instead just accepting that her faith was correct. The last couple of weeks has started to make her doubt everything she's held as true, but she _knows_ that God is there. If God isn't, then there really is no point to life.

She ends her prayer by asking for strength and forgiveness of her sins. For a second, she feels a bit of peace, then she opens her eyes and sees the flowerbeds rather than the stained glass windows of her church.

Kurt is just as busy as he was on Saturday, and ignores her just as readily as he leaves to work on some kind of project in the garage. She wonders if he is angry at her for waking him up, or if he is just in a snit. Kurt's always been a bitch, and Quinn's smart enough to leave him alone for now. Never, ever tick off someone in the middle of a bitchfit.

Burt spends the afternoon in front of the television watching football, watching the Browns play the Patriots. For lack of anything better to do, she joins him. She's not a huge football fan, but she knows enough about the game to follow what's happening. Burt is very inventive every time a play goes wrong, and she can't help but be impressed at some of the imaginative scenarios he comes up with for what should be done to the Patriots' offense.

Kurt comes in around halftime, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Quinn sitting next to his father, discussing why the Browns' head coach deserves to be shot. He doesn't say anything, just heads into the kitchen and returns with a beer which he wordlessly tosses to Burt. His father smiles at him, and Kurt's face softens.

"I'll be in my room if you need me," he tells them, turning around and heading away.

Quinn doesn't understand, but thinks she might have missed something. Why the heck is Kurt so impossible to understand?

* * *

Mr. Schuester isn't in on Monday. Quinn's stomach turns as she arrives at his class only to find another substitute is there. Last week's substitute had been a fresh out of college redhead who hadn't spoken a lick of Spanish, but the middle-aged woman standing in the front of the classroom gives off an aura of no-nonsense that rings of "permanent sub."

Kurt takes his seat in toward the back of the room, and for a second Quinn considers sitting next to him, but he hasn't been particularly friendly lately. So instead she moves to sit in the second row, taking care to line up her seat with where the sub is standing. Hopefully the class will be so busy being disrespectful to Ms. Grayson (as the letters on the whiteboard pronounce in dark blue) that they will ignore tormenting Quinn herself.

Despite her appearances, the sub is just as bad as the one from last week, announcing that the class was to spend its time filling in worksheets. If they have questions, they were to figure it out for themselves. If they finish early, they can talk quietly among themselves. Then the woman plops herself down in Mr. Schue's chair, opening a dogeared Nora Roberts novel.

Quinn sighs as she stares at the sheet. It's a poorly photocopied page talking about colors. It's going to take all of five minutes to complete, and the rest of the period is going to be incredibly boring. Sure enough, she finishes before the late bell rings. She's all caught up on homework, so the only thing to do is play on her laptop. She pulls it out of her bag, deciding that checking on Perez Hilton's site might provide a distraction.

She's scanning through the latest on Lindsay Lohan's failed addiction treatment when something distracts her attention. She's not sure exactly what it is until she lifts her head and sees Finn Hudson gnawing on his lip, looking at the worksheet with frustration.

Finn looks adorable, she thinks. He's not the brightest crayon in the box, but he does try to pass his classes. She smiles slightly as he pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, obviously lost deep in thought. It's a miracle she can't smell the scent of his braincells frying from overexertion.

Quinn hasn't dared speak to him since Babygate broke. She's not sure if she's angrier at him for dumping her and not even telling her to her face, beating up on Kurt, or deciding that dating Rachel Berry was a good rebound move. A part of her is still furious, but something about Finn has always drawn her in. She didn't date him just because he is the quarterback.

"Do you need help?" she asks, turning around in her chair so she's facing him.

Finn looks into her eyes – and for a second, Quinn forgets about everything that's happened. He's so handsome. He blinks, and his face hardens.

"I don't want to talk to you," he says. His gaze drop to her stomach accusingly.

If she is smart, she would drop this topic and go back to her laptop. She doesn't want to attract the attention of the rest of their peers. But she's never been smart where Finn's been concerned. "I'm just trying to help," she says softly. "I know you're angry at me, and you have a right to be. But the Finn Hudson I know isn't the kind of guy to carry a grudge, since he's a really nice person."

He tilts his head, considering what she's said. "I am having trouble with this," he admits. "Since Brittany's not here, I guess you can help me out this time."

She gives him her brightest smile. "Sure thing. What do you need help on?"

"The worksheet?" he replies pathetically.

She laughs, covering her mouth. Of course Finn hasn't been able to do any of it on his own. He's incapable of standing without someone to support him, after all. It's part of his clumsy charm.

Quinn knows Kurt is watching them. Without thinking about why, she leans just a bit closer to Finn as she begins to help him with the vocabulary.

* * *

Oh, she hates the slushies.

She used to laugh at the sight of someone – usually Rachel – getting hit in the face by a Big Quench, but now she realizes how very not funny it is. It's like being bitch-slapped by an iceberg. There is no other way to describe the combination of pain, humiliation and messiness that being slushied brings with it.

But it's now part of her daily routine, although not a predictable one. She's not sure if she's glad for that or not – knowing it's coming might give her time to brace and dread it, but the irregular attacks have made her paranoid. She's started to walk with her face turned toward the wall, knowing most of the slushinators prefer direct hits to the face.

It's only Wednesday, but she's been been slushied seven times. Each time, either Mercedes or Tina appears to help her clean up, which is nice of them. She doesn't dare wear her new clothes, because they'll just get ruined.

Strangely, Kurt isn't a target of the bullies anymore, with the exception of Finn and Puck who have tossed him in the dumpster every morning this week. But none of the other jocks come close to him, and Kurt hasn't been hit with a slushie yet.

She bitches about it while he's cleaning her off in the girl's bathroom, the first time he's been the one to help her out. It's the third time today she's been hit, and it's not even lunch. Needless to say, she's pissed, and doesn't stop to think that her anger is being misplaced when she wonders why he's not being treated to similar torment.

"It's because I'm a bad ass." He rolls his eyes at her, pausing the moist toilette over her cheekbone. "I stole the head cheerleader from the quarterback and got her pregnant. Go me," he drawls, before gently moving the toilette over her nose. "This hick town is so backwards it's surpassed the point of cliché and verges on _The Twilight Zone_."

His sangfroid makes her want to hurt him. She catches herself, remembering the way he'd looked at her after she slapped him that one time. Kurt had said he wouldn't take her abuse, and right now he is all she has.

"And you would hate to be cliché," she responds, dropping her gaze to his outfit. He's wearing something with a lot of buckles. She's relatively innocent when it comes to sex, but she knows enough to think he looks like he got dressed using an S&M store catalog.

"At least I look fabulous," he returns readily, before digging into his bag to pull out a comb. "I know we haven't talked about it yet, but are you planning on going to the doctor's soon?"

Quinn thinks about the bottle of pills Terri had given her. Mr. Schue still hasn't come back to school, and she's starting to think he might never do so again. She hasn't taken them since she doesn't trust the source, but they're a constant reminder there's so many things she needs to do to make sure her child isn't born a freak.

"I need to, don't I?"

"We can go to Planned Parenthood."

Quinn tenses. For her entire life, Planned Parenthood has been part of the work of the devil. "Kurt... they..."

He figures out where her thoughts are going. "You know it's a really good organization, right? They're good when it comes to prenatal planning. It's not just about abortion."

"But..."

"Neither of us has a clue where to start with this. They can provide us with good information, and their website says they can do the checkups. We can do a walk-in appointment, and if you don't like it there, we can at least get a list of the obstetricians in town."

When he says it like that, it seems reasonable enough. "Do you want to go tomorrow?" she asks.

"Why don't we go today?"

She wonders why he's in such a hurry to get this done, but decides she has nothing better to do this afternoon. "Sure."

* * *

It's a really good thing Kurt wants to go today, because she's already had too much time to think. Quinn is terrified, because this is a big step, and all she can think about is the weird birth defects that the pregnancy books warn about. She's still not happy about being pregnant, but being pregnant with a freak would be much, much worse. All the baby books she's been reading are telling her all the things she has to do right to avoid a birth defect, and there's far too much to remember.

The receptionist gives Kurt a dubious look as he follows Quinn into the waiting area. He's dressed in an outfit that brings out his androgynous qualities, and Quinn suspects people will think he's prettier than she is. Or at least cuter – she begrudgingly admits he does "adorable like a little boy whose cheeks I wanna pinch" better than anyone at McKinley.

Kurt pulls his cellphone out and starts texting as she fills in the paperwork. He's probably whining at Mercedes, but she doesn't ask. There's some easy stuff on the forms, like her name, but some of the questions she doesn't know the answer to. They're asking about the father's medical history and other personal information, and aside from knowing his mother is dead, she doesn't know that much about where Kurt came from.

"Can you?" she asks, holding out the clipboard to him.

"Can I what?"

"Fill out the stuff about your family?"

He has boyish handwriting, and it's nearly illegible. The flaw amuses her, since he's so polished in everything else. Kurt seems like the type to perfect calligraphy, not a sloppy half-cursive, half-print.

She needs stuff to be amused about.

He completes it quickly without speaking to her. She feels awkward, uncomfortably aware of how much a stranger he is to her. He hands the form back to her, and she scans over it quickly. Nothing pings as unusual – Kurt's medical history is fairly standard. He comes from good stock.

That's one less thing to worry about. She won't need to worry about Tay-Sachs and other genetic disorders passed along through certain ethnic and racial groups. There's so much that can go wrong that it's a miracle any child is born healthy.

Quinn gets up and gives the forms to the nurse. The nurse doesn't even bother to look at her, instead taking the papers back and shoving them into a file. "Have a seat, and the nurse will get you when she's ready."

She really hates how cool Kurt is about this whole mess. He's using his Iphone and surfing the web, watching stupid YouTube videos. He's not laughing, but he's not paying attention to her, either. Quinn stares at the copies of _Parenting_ magazine scattered among the pamphlets warning about the dangerous of smoking and alcohol use during pregnancy, along with information for rape victims. She stares at them for a long moment, wondering if there's anything in it she needs to know.

Thankfully the nurse doesn't take long to get her. "Quinn?" the woman calls from the doorway, thankfully not using her last name. She doesn't recognize anyone in the waiting room, but the rumor mill works fast in Lima.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asks, looking up from his phone.

She tilts her head as she considers his question. "Do you want to?"

"I'd like to know what's going on," he says, "but I would understand if you want your privacy."

She's too scared to be worried about modesty at this point. "Come on," she says. "I'd rather do this together."

He slips the cellphone into his pocket, before rising to his feet. He doesn't offer Quinn a hand up, likely acting on his feminist instincts and assuming Quinn can handle herself. He's not the kind of person to offer useless coddling.

The exam room is painted in peach and has all kinds of medical illustrations featuring the wonders of pregnancy. Quinn looks at the one that displays the differences between the three trimesters, and feels a bit ill. Turning her head, she sees that Kurt has blanched, and looks even worse than she feels. It's petty, but she can't help but be smug at throwing him off-balanced. He's been so in control so far that she can't help but feel satisfied.

The nurse comes and starts the exam, handing Quinn a light hospital gown and telling her to remove all her other clothes, before stepping out. Kurt doesn't look up from his cellphone as Quinn turns her back to change. She feels incredibly vulnerable standing in the room wearing nothing but the gown, which doesn't even fasten in the back.

The nurse comes back and has her step on the scale, before going to check her blood pressure. Quinn cooperates until the needle is produced. She really, really hates needles and shots...

And oh, God, this pregnancy thing is going to mean a lot of blood drawing and shots, isn't it?

She's not aware she's hyperventilating until the nurse is placing a hand on her shoulder, telling her to calm down. Kurt looks up with a stunned expression on his face, his eyes wide and confused as he stares at her.

She struggles to regain control, reminding herself that Quinn Fabray does not have panic attacks over such a stupid little thing.

The nurse is saying something to Kurt, and Quinn can't focus on the words. But she does feel the sudden warmth of his hand on hers, and then his face is six inches from hers. She doesn't jerk away, watching as his lips form her name.

"...listen. Quinn? Just look at my face and squeeze my hand," he says.

She squeezes his hand so tightly she wonders if she's going to break his fingers, but the nurse finishes in under two minutes. He pulls his hand back, shaking it to restore sensation.

"Thank you," she whispers, knowing the worst of it is over.

He nods, but doesn't say anything.

It's the most exciting thing that happens during most of the exam, since the nurse is asking Quinn all kinds of questions about her diet, and how she's feeling. The lady talks about nutrition and some ways to help alleviate the worst of the symptoms. Quinn's just starting to relax when the doctor comes in and introduces herself. Dr. Nader is a tall woman wearing a headscarf, and Quinn tries not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious foreigner.

Dr. Nader shakes both of their hands, and speaks in unaccented English as she looks over Quinn's chart. "It looks like everything is going well, but we're going to keep a close eye on things," she says, before a smile curls her lips. "You're in luck today, since we have the portable ultrasound on site," she says. "It will save you a visit."

Quinn realizes the doctor is trying to do them a favor. She's not sure if she likes the idea of seeing a picture of their baby right now. She's still reeling from the knowledge that she is going to be having one that she's not ready to think of the child as an actual person. She opens her mouth to make an excuse, but then catches a glimpse of Kurt's face.

"That would be nice," she says instead of the denial she really wants to make.

The nurse comes back in a couple of minutes later wheeling the ultrasound, before helping arrange Quinn on the examination table as Dr. Nader works on setting up the machine. The jelly is cold against the skin of her stomach before the doctor rubs the transducer-thing over her stomach. It takes a couple of seconds for a gray image to appear on the screen.

Quinn blinks, trying to figure out what she's seeing. She can kind of make out the head, but that's only if she squints and tilts her head. It looks like a blob to her.

"Wow," Kurt murmurs beside her. "That's... that's our baby."

The sheer awe in his voice stirs her, and she feels her cynicism about the poor picture melt. This is the first picture of their baby. She and Kurt have made another human being. It definitely is worth a "wow."

"What is it?" Quinn asks, before Kurt has a chance to tell her not to. "Is it a boy or girl?"

"It's too soon to tell," Dr. Nader replies. "We won't be able to tell for at least another month, and that's assuming the baby is positioned in a way where we can see its genital area."

"Is it healthy?" Kurt asks instead.

"It's textbook perfect," Dr. Nader tells them warmly. She points to the screen with her free hand. "See? You can see where its heart is beating."

Kurt's attention is fastened to the screen, watching in fascination. His eyes look moist, like he's about to cry. "It's amazing."

"Every time I see it, I'm always impressed," Dr. Nader agrees. "I'll give you a recording and a couple of print outs to take home."

"Thank you," Kurt murmurs. They watch for another minute, before Dr. Nader shuts off the machine.

Quinn and Kurt just stare at each other. Quinn can't think of anything to say, and Kurt is uncharacteristically speechless. What do you say when you've just experienced one of the most profound moments of your young life?

Thankfully Dr. Nader unknowingly breaks up the tension. "Okay, I'm going to ask your boyfriend to step out," Dr. Nader says. "I need to do a pelvic exam."

Kurt clears the room so quickly that Quinn can't help but laugh.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Let the Rain Sing You a Lullaby_**_  
_

_by aishuu_

* * *

She and Kurt arrive at school the next day still feeling off balance. As soon as they enter the building, they're met by Tina and Mercedes, who seem to have been waiting for them. Mercedes cocks an eyebrow at Kurt, before stepping forward and linking her arm through his. "Mind if I borrow our boy for a bit?" she asks, then drags Kurt away before Quinn has a chance to say anything.

Quinn watches them go, feeling left behind and just a little bitter that Mercedes hadn't wanted to include her. Tina, though, steps forward bravely. "M-mercedes thought K-kurt might need to talk," she says. "Please d-d-don't get mad."

"Why would I get mad?" she says, lying through her teeth.

Tina doesn't catch on, instead relaxing her shoulders a bit. "That's good," she says, smiling. "So I can see the p-pictures?"

Quinn knows exactly what Tina is talking about, the small printed version of her sonogram she's taped to the inside of her notebook. She's still kind of awed about what it represents, but she'd love to share it with Tina. She opens her bag and starts to bring it out, before her newly developed loser preservation instincts kick in.

"Not here," she says, glancing around the hallway. The Cheerios have early morning practice, but there's nothing to keep the jocks and other bullies from stealing it from her and doing something awful with it. "Library?"

"S-s-sure," Tina agrees, a bright smile on her face.

When they arrive, they grab a table in the back. Quinn hands her notebook over, the cover open so Tina can see.

"Wow," Tina says, her fingers tracing the small, black and white image. "Do you know what it's going to be yet?"

"They can't tell until the fourth month or so. And I don't know if I want to know," Quinn admits. "But I think Kurt will, since he'll be planning the baby's wardrobe as soon as he can."

Tina is silent for a long moment, her jaw hanging out. "Y-you're keeping it? With Kurt?"

It occurs to Quinn that she hasn't told anyone about the conversations she's had with Kurt. The rumor mill (aided by Jewfro's damned blog) has caught onto the fact she's been disowned and is living with Kurt, but no one knows this isn't just short term. Most people probably think she's either going to give it up or be a single mother. It's strange that none of Kurt's friends give him more credit. Tina had told Quinn that Kurt was a private person, but it's becoming clear that he's shielded himself so well people don't have the first clue about what makes him tick.

"He really wants the baby," Quinn says, "and I think we can make it work."

Tina pushes a strand of pink hair away from her face. "It's kind of hard to think of him as a father. He's so... K-k-kurt," Tina says.

"He'll be a good one," Quinn says. She's not defending him, just stating a fact. "His father's a good role model."

"His f-f-father's scary," Tina stutters. "He caught us d-d-dancing to 'Single Ladies' and I th-th-thought he was going to kill K-k-kurt."

Quinn stifles a giggle behind her hand. She can picture the scene easily, and realizes Burt Hummel's gruffness may easily be misinterpreted. "I think Mr. Hummel may find Kurt confusing, but he loves him a lot," she says. "And he and Kurt are very close."

Tina shakes her head, her face still expressionless. "I-if you say so," she agrees dubiously. "I-if you decide y-you need someplace else to st-stay, call me, okay? M-my house has an extra room."

Quinn feels warm and flushed with happiness at the offer. She may have lost all her former friends, but there's other people out there who care about her. Unlike Mercedes, whose loyalties clearly (and rightly) belong to Kurt first, Tina could potentially become Quinn's new best friend.

Then she realizes something which brings back how new all this is. "I would need your phone number first," she says, handing her phone over. Tina blushes as she pulls out her own phone and gives it to Quinn so they can exchange contact information. 

* * *

Despite that pleasant start to the day, things go downhill rapidly. She can hear the people whispering as she enters her first period geometry class right before the bell. She's used to it by now, but the way they're looking at her indicates she is once again subject to a new rumor. She considers for a second what to do, before deciding that sitting next to Rachel Berry is the right answer. As much as she loathes the would-be starlet, Rachel is hooked into the rumor mill and can be persuaded to spill quite easily.

Thankfully Mr. Gleason is the type of teacher that lets the good students do whatever the hell they wanted, as long as they kept testing well. So as the teacher began his daily babbles about the joys of cosine, Quinn leans closer.

"What are people saying about me today?" she demands, her voice a low whisper.

Rachel sits upright, her expression growing concerned. "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes," she says, before raising a hand to be excused.

Quinn tries not to frown, not liking how ready Rachel (who prizes her perfect grades just as much as Quinn prizes her own) is to bail. It could be Rachel's usual melodramatic nature at play, but Quinn doubts things would be that simple.

Four minutes later, Quinn rises to her feet and goes to the door. Mr. Gleason meets her eyes, but doesn't say anything about her walking out of class. Maybe he hasn't gotten the memorandum that her Cheerio privileges are revoked.

She times it so she's walking in five minutes to the second after Rachel left. Rachel is leaning against the closest sink, her hands full of papers.

"Spill, Berry," she says, deciding to forgo the usual insulting nickname since she wants something. She's still pissed off at Rachel, but that's not going to stop her.

Rachel takes a deep breath, before handing over the stack of papers. Quinn blinks, recognizing several as packets coming from Ms. Pillsbury's stockpile. One is called "Abortion is a Life-Changing Decision" while another is labeled "Someone Else Wants Your Baby."

"What are these?"

"I know you may be very frustrated and angry, but I wanted you to consider the wisdom of having an abortion. I'm a partially adopted child myself, and I'm living proof that there's tons of couples that would want to take your baby if you don't want to raise him or her by yourself. So I ask you on behalf of your unborn child to think carefully before you do anything irreversible. Please don't feel you have to do what Kurt wants, since it's your body and your choice."

It takes her a second to process Rachel's rambling enough to understand. "You think Kurt would try to make me do that?" she asks with horrified disbelief.

"Teen fathers often pressure their partners to have an abortion to avoid the inconvenience of having a child. If you need somewhere else to stay, I'm sure my dads would be happy to put you up."

It should be funny. In less than an hour, she's had two different offers to give her a place away from Kurt. It may be well intended, but it's almost insulting how little Rachel respects Kurt. "Do you really think Kurt is like that?"

"Kurt's ruthless," Rachel says. "I'm the same, so I recognize that nothing will get in the way of his ambition to get out of Lima. He'll do anything to win."

Quinn crosses her arms over her chest. "Kurt's the one who wants to keep the baby the most," she says. "He's a hell of a lot better person than you're giving him credit for."

"Oh." Rachel's shoulders slump. "I thought..."

"Why do you think I'm going to get an abortion?" Quinn asks. She taps the cross that hangs from her neck. "You're smart enough to know I'm pro life."

"Someone saw you leaving Planned Parenthood yesterday with Kurt, and... well, it's all over Jacob's blog."

She shuts her eyes. She is going to kill Kurt for convincing her not to wait and find a real doctor. "Are you really that stupid? Aren't you the one who goes around spouting the joys of safe sex? Planned Parenthood has all kinds of reproductive services, not just abortion."

"Oh." Rachel sounds even meeker. "I didn't think of that."

Quinn considers telling Rachel exactly what _else_ she hasn't been thinking of. Quinn is still royally pissed off at the diva, and her attempt at an intervention just serves to remind Quinn how much she wishes the Barbra wannabe would catch a fatal case of laryngitis.

But Quinn is the one who had instigated this whole mess, so it wouldn't be fair to take her wrath out on Rachel this time. Instead she frowns, deciding that she's going to have to go after the person who really pissed her off.

Rachel sees her expression and swallows. Quinn doesn't notice. 

* * *

Quinn's breaking all sorts of rules, but she hacks into Jewfro's blog account during her study hall. It only takes her ten tries to guess his password – rachelberrypanties69. It's kind of stupid that it's so easy to guess since he's supposed to be a smart guy familiar with how technology can be exploited, but Jewfro is also a huge perv with one thing on his mind.

It takes her fifteen minutes to type up an article about Sue Sylvester having an unrequited crush on Mr. Schue, and all the "plays" she's making for his attention. She's feels a bit badly about using the Spanish teacher's good name, but it's really all about slamming Coach Sylvester... not that Quinn is resentful of being kicked off the Cheerios. It's just a bonus that the worst thing that any student at McKinley can do is piss off the Cheerios coach.

Then she changes the password into a random stream of letters and numbers, locking Jacob out from deleting the entry easily. It is small and petty of her, but while she may not be the HBIC anymore, she is not going to take any crap lying down. 

* * *

She's getting into the line in the cafeteria when Kurt comes up behind her, a carefully controlled expression on his face. She tilts her head to look up at him as he steps next to her, cutting off the three freshmen behind her. Usually cutting in the lunch line is a privilege reserved for jocks and Cheerios, but the three members of the AV Club don't make a whimper of protest.

"Did you hear that Jacob Ben Israel has been suspended for a week?" he asks.

It's news to her, although she's not surprised. "Oh?"

"Seems he decided to forgo all hints of self-preservation and post a gossip article about Coach Sylvester and Mr. Schue."

"That was very stupid of him."

"Indeed." He pauses for a long moment, before speaking again. "Mr. Schuester spells his name with a C after the S, by the way."

Quinn blinks, realizing she's been caught out. Then she smiles up at Kurt and says, "I'll try to remember that." 

* * *

Mr. Schue is back in class. She hadn't heard, since most of her day had been spent correcting people who started to make abortion comments or sneering back at those who sneered at her first.

He's sitting at the front of the room at his desk, but his usual healthy complexion is wan and he looks smaller. There's no smile on his face as the students come in, and none of the eagerness to teach that is one of his trademarks. Mr. Schue is one of the best teachers in school because he gives a damn about the students in his classes. Quinn hates to think she might be the cause of him becoming yet another burnout.

Mr. Schue looks away from her deliberately as she takes her seat in the second row. Quinn feels all the confidence she's gathered since bringing Jewfro down evaporate in an instant.

Before she has a chance to think too much, Kurt sits down next to her. He hangs his bag off the back of his chair, digging into it to pull out a notebook and mechanical pencil. He doesn't say anything, but it's easy to detect why he's there from the glare he gives their teacher. Kurt isn't about to back down on his threat to see Mr. Schue destroyed if he tries to go after Quinn.

The lesson is predictably bland as Mr. Schue tries to make up for a week of missed classes. He gives two extra assignments and a project due next week, apologizing but pointing out that they have to meet the state curriculum guidelines. Quinn tries to pay attention and act like a normal student, but she can't forget the way Mr. Schue had been the last time she'd seen him. Kurt isn't even taking notes, instead spending the time eying the teacher so evilly that if his gaze was a death ray, Mr. Schue would have been evaporated at least three times every minute.

Mr. Schue manages to avoid looking at them the whole period, which is amazing considering the fact they were sitting in front of him.

When the bell rings, Mr. Schue casually dismisses the class, before adding, "Quinn, Kurt? Could you two please stay for a minute?"

There's a hiss of giggles at their expense as the crowd clears out. Mr. Schue shuts the door behind them to keep the next class from entering.

"What do you want?" Kurt asks as soon as the door clicks closed. His voice is sharp and hostile.

"I wanted to apologize for what happened last week, and try to explain a bit," Mr. Schue says. He sounds tired and worn out. "Terri is... she's not well."

"_Qué sorpresa,_" Kurt drawls sarcastically. "What was your first hint?"

"Listen," Quinn says, elbowing him before she has a chance to think about it. Kurt blinks at her, before his eyes narrow dangerously.

Mr. Schue watches their interplay quietly. "I would appreciate it if you'd listen to what I'm telling you. I'm not saying Terri wasn't wrong to make that offer, but I wanted to let you know why."

"I don't care why," Kurt says, rising to his feet and slamming his hands on the desk. "I'm so offended at what she tried to do that what I _want_ is for her to take a long walk off a short pier."

Quinn stands, placing a hand on Kurt's elbow to quiet him. "Give Mr. Schue a chance," she urges, before turning to their teacher. "Why?"

Mr. Schue runs a hand through his hair, before speaking. He talks about Terri having a hysterical pregnancy, and how her sister had encouraged her to "fix" things by finding a baby. He admits that Terri had found out about the pregnancy through him, but he hadn't known what was going on. He tells them that Terri was admitted to a psychiatric ward a couple of days ago, and promises she won't bother them any more.

"I know you two have a lot going on, and I'm sorry that my wife may have made things worse for you," he says. "I would never, never condone what she did."

Kurt is still rigid beside her. She hears the bell ring. She wants to accept Mr. Schue's apology, since it wasn't his fault, but she doesn't want to be the one to speak up first.

"Can you give us late passes?" Kurt says. "We need to think about what you said. We'll see you in Glee later."

Mr. Schue nods, going over to his desk to scrawl out a couple of late passes.


End file.
